


Those Three Words

by eeeeeeee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Mental Instability, PBB 2k15, Phandom Big Bang, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idk how they go together but they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/eeeeeeee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates!AU Dan is just your run-of-the-mill teenager. Well, unless you count the extremely homophobic father, bullies at school and the suicidal tendencies. The day of his sixteenth birthday, Dan has the name of his soulmate etched into his skin, but how long can he hide Philip Michael Lester from his father and avoid the devastating consequences sure to follow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Three Words

**Author's Note:**

> This took so fucking long
> 
> Word Count: 40.5k (help us)
> 
> Warnings: Parental abuse, homophobia, homophobic slurs, self harm, swearing, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, domestic violence (but there’s also tooth-rotting fluff and I don’t know how that goes together but it does)
> 
> Beta: The almighty senpai glow cloud (all hail), Their Highness Ella (trxylerhxwellter on Tumblr go follow)
> 
> ((there is no art for this fic as the artist pulled out due to personal circumstances))
> 
> A/N: Heyo! So this is our PBB fic for 2015. Honestly I can’t even believe I finished it but it was so fucking fun to write this like holy shit. The reason I’m posting so late is that I’m ill and I had to put in all the bold and italic font. I’ll probably split it into chapters after I post this bc it’s hella long but enjoy!
> 
> 2017 note: y'all stop reading this at 2am when you got tests in 7 hours n you haven't studied. it ain't worth it.

**Daniel James Howell** couldn’t sleep, which was fairly normal for him by now, but this was a good kind of not sleeping - the kind that a child has on Christmas Eve, or the night after their tooth fell out. It was the _holyshitI’msoexcited_ kind of not sleeping.

  


Dan checked the clock that resided on his bedside table.

  


11:40 pm.

  


It was the night before Dan’s 16th birthday, the night before he would get to know who his soulmate was - the person who was born for him, and he for them.

  


His mum told him that at 12am in his 16th birthday, a tattoo would appear somewhere on his body, and that the tattoo would be the name of his soulmate, written with their hand. Dan felt somewhat sorry for the person whose name would appear… _if_ a name appeared…

  


After all, who would want a boring, suicidal, depressed loser?

  


Dan shook his head, he wouldn’t let those thoughts get the better of him tonight. He refused to slice open his wrists, tonight of all nights because, despite what the voices in his mind told him to think, he was so _bloody excited._

  


11:52 pm.

  


The minutes seemed like hours and with each passing second he could feel his hands reaching for his blades, his wrists aching to be slit open, and just when he had the mutilating object in his grasp, just when he turned over his right wrist to drag the sharp edge across his flesh… he saw the words.

  


Dan started tearing up. The words - those three, simple words were right over his scars.

  


Some people had boasted about their tattoos being right over their hearts, or ringed around their necks, or even those whose names had been written in beautiful cursive, sprawled out in spidery, flowing letters of molten obsidian.

  


Dan couldn’t say anything like that - the words were inked in a large, loopy hand, and along one’s forearm wasn’t considered very romantic placement but to Dan, those words over his scars meant the world. He wouldn’t dream of tearing apart the endearing script.

  


He dropped the blade and ran his thumb over the name. It wasn’t particularly striking or interesting, but Dan’s heart yearned to find the man who wrote like he had been told to fill up as much space as possible - the man who goes by the name of Philip Michael Lester.

  


———

  


**Philip Michael Lester** woke abruptly, gasping in pain - his tattoo was _burning._ He took the restricting t-shirt off and stared at the single word inked around his upper arm: Daniel.

  


When Phil was sixteen, he had been branded with just one word - no last name or middle name, so Phil was confused. He had asked his parents and they just cried and told him that ‘Daniel’ must not have made it to sixteen - they said that he had died.

  


Phil checked his tattoo every day, refusing to believe that he had no one, that he had just been left alone in a world with such happiness. Every day turned into every week, then every month, then just every so often until, ultimately, he gave up altogether.

  


He accepted that Daniel must have died, despite how much his heart had told him _no, he’s still out there!_

  


Regardless of what his parents told him, of what he had convinced himself half-heartedly, here he was. Phil stared at his tattoo in wonder as more black, scribbly letters wrote themselves across his arm. The burning sensation stopped, and Phil ran over to the mirror in the bathroom.

  


The name was ringed around his arm, so Phil had to twist and turn to make sure he could read all of it. Excitement coursed through him as the name ran circles in his mind a thousand times;

  


_Daniel James Howell._

  


Four years after his sixteenth birthday, there it was. Phil broke into and elated grin. I _knew he wasn’t dead,_ he thought.

  


His heart ached at the thought of the person who owned those three, simple words and he was surprised how, as soon as the name appeared, he knew that whatever his parents told him wasn’t valid because there was someone out there with the name Daniel James Howell, and he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

  


He slipped his shirt back on and rushed outside to knock on Chris and PJ’s door. It was lucky they all ended up going to the same university. Grumbling noises could be heard from inside and a bleary-eyed PJ answered the door.

  


“Phil?” he questioned sleepily, “What are you…” he trailed off as Phil pulled up his sleeve and revealed his now-complete tattoo. PJ’s eyes widened, all thoughts of sleep gone, and he pulled Phil inside.

  


“Peej… tell whoever it is to bugger off,” PJ’s soulmate, Chris mumbled in sleepy protest as he saw PJ pull someone inside.

  


“Chris, shush,” PJ told him hurriedly, “show me again, Phil.”

  


Phil once again pulled up his sleeve and PJ lifted his arm up so he read all of it. “Daniel James Howell…” he marvelled, Why’d you think it took so long to appear?”

  


PJ knew of Phil’s predicament ever since they were sixteen, and he had been more upset than Phil when he told PJ ‘Daniel’ was dead.

  


“Why’d what take who now?” Chris asked groggily.

  


They met Chris when he transferred to their college in Year 13, and Phil knew PJ was a goner as soon as he saw him.

  


“You know how I always kept my soulmate tattoo covered up?” Phil asked, still euphoric from his discovery.

  


Chris nodded sombrely - he was well aware that soulmates were a touchy topic for Phil.

  


“That’s because only one name appeared when I was sixteen, so everyone thought that he died,” Phil informed, “but now I have his full name, it just came up.”

  


“That’s weird,” Chris stated.

  


“Very,” PJ agreed, “but what are you going to do now? Does this mean he’s still alive?”

  


Phil nodded. “He’s definitely still alive, I can feel it… as for what I’m going to do… I’m going to find him.”

  


———

  


**Daniel James Howell** had been staring at the name on his arm for a while now, tears dripping down his chin and onto his wrist. _“Thank you,”_ he whispered, _“thank you for stopping me….”_

  


Dan hated what he did to himself, he loathed that he was dependent on a small piece of metal to keep his head above the water because he knew, he knewit was wrong and horrible but he just _didn’t know how else he could cope._

  


The placement of the tattoo had nothing to do with the person, but Dan liked to think it did, he felt somewhat sorry for Philip Michael Lester, yes, but for some reason he really couldn’t explain, he felt so unbelievably… _happy._

  


Dan got out his computer and put in a search for _Philip Michael Lester._ Immediately profiles for a range of different social media sites came up - Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, everything! Dan had never found a use for any of these websites as he didn’t have any friends and he was by no means social.

  


Dan gasped as he clicked on his facebook - he was perfect. Philip had shiny, too-black hair that was styled in a fringe the opposite way to Dan’s, ice-blue eyes and an adorable smirk. Dan was kind of embarrassed to admit that he spent the rest of the night stalking - _looking at_ \- Philip’s social media profiles.

  


He felt like he was intruding too far when he made it down to his photos from five years ago.

  


Oops.

  


He Learnt that Philip was twenty years old, went to Manchester University, liked to be called Phil and was adorable as fuck. Everything he posted was light-hearted and full of emojis. Dan laughed and the randomness of the jokes he seemed to have with his friends - things like the ‘hidden wombat’ and videos of his two friends acting out little skits.

  


_I’m a fucking grade-a creeper…_

  


Dan sighed - his soulmate was an adorable, smart, amazing person and Philip’s soulmate was a depressing mess. He stared at the blade on the floor for a moment before slowly reaching down and picking it up. He held the sharp instrument in his hand firmly and brought it down deliberately and mercilessly against his left wrist, wincing slightly at the pain.

  


_Again and again and again…_

  


Dan relaxed into his bed, watching the thick, red liquid bead around the incision and trickle down his arm. Despite what his right wrist displayed, Dan found it hard to believe that Philip Michael Lester could ever love someone like him.

  


———

  


**Philip Michael Lester** winced as a deep, aching pain resonated from his chest. “He’s sad,” Phil whispered thickly, “really, really sad…”

  


PJ shared a worried glance with Chris. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asked softly, not yet aware of how delicate the situation was.

  


Phil shrugged helplessly, wanting to just find Daniel and hug him tightly until he felt better - he hadn’t even met the boy and yet he never wanted him to feel like this again.

  


PJ yawned, and Phil was reminded of how late it actually was. “I’ll let you two get back to your beauty sleep - see you in the morning,” he finalised.

  


They nodded. Chris told him to not stay up too late stalking Daniel James Howell on the internet. Phil smiled as he left - _not a bad idea Chris,_ he thought, _not a bad idea at all…_

  


When Phil had retreated back to the solitude of his own room, he opened up his laptop and searched up _‘Daniel James Howell.’_

  


Nothing.

  


There were plenty of results for Daniel J. James, James Daniels, Jack Daniels, Daniel James Howard and James Daniel Howlter, but no Daniel James Howell. _Who didn’t have social media in this day and age?!_

  


Phil leaned back against his headboard and sighed - there _had_ to be some kind of record of him _somewhere!_

  


Then Phil had an epiphany - if he were Daniel, wouldn’t he try and find a _Phillip Michael Lester?_ Phil logged into Tumblr and found that a certain person who went by the username of ‘Danisnotonfire’ had pretty much just stalked his blog. He chuckled at the pseudonym and clicked on the username.

  


The first impression Phil had was _dark._ Black heavily dominated the colour scheme and the bio only read Dan/bored/dying from life. _No wonder I couldn’t find him,_ Phil thought to himself

  


He scrolled through his most recent posts and became increasingly worried as the more cheerful things he had posted were reblogged from Phil.

  


Most of his text posts were snippets of macabre poetry or dark, 3am thoughts. His audio posts were music of all kinds - classical, punk rock, K-pop, - and Phil was elated when he came across several posts about the kind of stuff Phil liked as well.

  


After he felt he had sufficiently stalked the boy’s Tumblr, he clicked follow and decided to call it a night, surprised when he saw that it was a little past 2am. _Great,_ Phil thought, _I have a lecture in five hours. Fun._

  


_———_

  


**Dan** woke up to his obnoxious alarm blaring in his ear.

  


“Fucking. Motherfucker. _Go away,”_ he mumbled sleepily, slowly dragging his aching body out of the warmth of his bed. He cautiously turned on the shower, hissing in protest when the scalding water hit his bloodied wrist.

  


Dan let the water warm him from the outside in. He brought his forearm up to his eyes, staring wistfully at the name running up it. He spent had the better part of last night stalking Philip on all platforms of social media possible - careful to leave little to no trace of his existence.

  


He wasn’t sure why he did that… maybe he just didn’t want to seem a bit over-eager.

  


After plugging in his straighteners and leaving them to warm up, Dan searched around for something to wear. He dug out an old My Chemical Romance shirt and found a pair of skinny jeans that he had somehow not worn yet, shrugging as he put them on.

  


Just as he was about to go downstairs, he realised he left his straighteners on his desk.

  


“Shit,” he hissed, running back and lifting them up, inspecting the wood for burn marks. Sighing in relief, Dan carefully flattened his annoying curls, checking his reflection in the mirror one last time before turning the hot instrument off and placing it down.

  


He plodded down to breakfast and when he got downstairs, he saw the rest of his family waiting attentively. Dan stood at the bottom of the stairs, cornered.

  


“Well? Who’d you get? Do we know her?” His mum pestered. Dan just shook his and pulled the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands and wordlessly moved into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

  


“Show us!” Adrian tittered excitedly, bouncing after Dan. Dan froze for a second before shaking his head and spooning more cereal into his mouth.

  


“Speak up, Daniel!” His father yelled “Tell us the name!”

  


“F-Fiona,” Dan winced, his father was extremely against gays and Dan knew that if he told the truth, he would be in serious trouble.

  


He didn’t understand how he could be against people who were same-sex oriented when you could literally see the evidence inked across their skin.

  


Dan’s father nodded, contented with the response. “Good. I expect grandchildren in a couple of years, and make sure she knows who’s boss, eh?” he chuckled darkly. Dan’s mum flinched.

  


_Show her who’s boss, eh?_

  


She knew about that all too well.

  


Dan nodded briefly, the words spewing from his father’s mouth making him feel sick to his stomach. He quickly placed the bowl in the sink and ran upstairs. He couldn’t believe that man! Who would say something like that with an 10-year-old in the room?! Adrian may be young, but he wasn’t so stupid as to not hear the meaning behind those words.

  


Dan checked the time - he still had a while before he had to go to school, so he opened his laptop and saw that he had left Tumblr open last night. Going into his activity, he saw that he had a new follower - he still didn’t know why anyone would follow him, of all people.

  


_Amazingphil._

  


_Philip Michael Lester._

  


That’s who was following him.

  


That meant he already knew how incredibly depressing and messed up he was, judging from all his spur-of-the-moment posts on what was going through his mind late at night. Philip was probably disappointed that he got the whiny little sixteen year old for a soulmate.

  


Dan slammed his laptop shut, grabbed his bag and headed out to school.

  


He was so _fucked._

  


_———_

  


Phil was jerked awake by PJ shaking him.

  


“Come on man, how did _you_ of all people over sleep?” He asked incredulously.

  


“Probably stayed up stalking a Mr. Daniel James Howell. I did warn you,” Chris smirked, “you have five minutes to get ready. Aren’t you glad you gave us that spare key?”

  


Phil flushed as he rose from his bed in a panic, grabbing clean (or not-so-clean, as the case may be) clothes and darting into the bathroom to change. After copious amounts of deodorant and raking his fingers through his hair, he opened the door and picked up his bag.

  


“Okay,” he puffed, “let’s go.”

  


Chris laughed at his expense and the trio made their way down to the lecture halls. Phil sighed as he waved goodbye to his friends, who both took film while he did English and linguistics.

  


He was fifteen minutes into the talk before realising that it was literally just revision, basically just: “Here’s everything you have already learnt in two hours.”

  


Phil groaned and opened a new tab, ignoring the word document he was using to take notes. He logged into Tumblr, thankful he had chosen to sit up the back. Hovering his mouse over Daniel’s username, he contemplated whether or not to send him a message.

  


Why was he so nervous? He didn’t even know the boy - hell, he didn’t even know what he looked like!

  


Phil shook his head and went into his ask box - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

  


_Famous last words._

  


The message sent and Phil immediately went back to his dashboard, craving a distraction. By the time his lecture was over, Phil had exhausted every means of keeping his mind occupied, but the message was never far from his thoughts, despite how funny the gif on his screen was.

  


Phil knew that PJ had another media and film lecture, while Chris had some random club-type thing to go to… he never said what, only repeating that the first rule of club, was not to talk about it.

  


He was on his own.

  


Sighing, Phil packed up his stuff and headed to Starbucks - nothing like a warm, comforting cup of overpriced, caramel-flavoured coffee to take his mind off things… right?

  


Wrong. Here he was alone with his thoughts, which lead to him almost banging his head on the table because _holy hell he was acting like a 12-year-old with a crush._

  


There was an aching sadness inside him that hadn’t left since the rest of his name appeared, which wasn’t good for his Crossy Road high score. It was strange, this feeling - he knew it wasn’t his own, it was almost… _disjointed_ inside him.

  


No one deserved to carry this kind of lead around in their chests all day, much less Daniel.

  


———

  


**Dan** stared at the little bubble in the corner of his inbox icon, debating whether to open what was undoubtedly an anon hate message just so he could snarkily reply to it or leave it.

  


Snarky reply it was.

  


He clicked on the icon, and almost threw his computer against the wall.

  


_Hey!_ the message read, _So my name is Phil Lester and I’m kind of hoping yours is Daniel James Howell bc if it isn’t this just got really awkward (also hi person-called-Daniel-but-not-the-one-I’m-looking-for) Dan giggled slightly, excitement building in his chest, Anyway, the thing is that I never had your full name - ever since I was 16 I just had ‘Daniel’ but the rest appeared last night, which I’m glad about. It’s nice to finally meet you ^__^_

  


Dan smiled wider than he had in months, finding it strange how one short message could make him feel all weird, like there was something expanding in his chest and laughter bubbling up in his throat at the same time. He clicked the reply button and stared at the screen for a bit, clenching and unclenching his hands over the keyboard until he thought of what to say.

  


_Hey Phil, I think-_

  


No, he couldn’t say Phil it was too… too… friendly? What if he preferred to be called Philip? Was he being too forward?

  


_Hey Philip,_

  


That was better, now he only had to think of what to say.

  


_Hey Philip, I don’t know why that happened lolzor_

  


Lolzor? _Lolzor?_ Was he fucking _kidding_ himself? _Lolzor?_ backspacebackspacebackspace

  


_Hey Philip, I don’t know…_

  


_Anything. You don’t know anything you absolute loser,_ he cursed himself. He had to make it seem like he did this stuff all the time - like he had loads of mutuals that he chatted with on a daily basis and stopped in the street to ask old ladies how their day had been.

  


He had to seem like that, not… whatever the fuck he was actually like.

  


_Hey Philip, I really don’t know why that happened - maybe because I only turned 16 today?_

  


There we go, relatively normal, reasonable point… was that enough? Was this too _in_ formal?

  


_Hey Phillip, I really don’t know why that happened - maybe because I only turned 16 today? (Also, nice to meet you too)_

  


_\- Dan_

  


There. That seemed normal enough. Dan smiled slightly and hit send.

  


He put his computer down and plugged his headphones into his phone, allowing the music to wash over him. Dan laid down on his bed and determinedly ignored the doubts that were circulating around in his head. He was _not_ going to have a panic attack over some stupid message, and that was final.

  


Closing his eyes, Dan focused his thoughts on the lyrics and sung along quietly, comforted by the solitude of his bedroom and the distraction of the music.

  


Of course, the world didn’t like to be forgotten and reality crashed around Dan as his mother came in through the door, telling him that dinner was ready and _for goodness sake, take your headphones out when I’m speaking to you!_

  


Dan glumly followed his mum downstairs. His father nodded in acknowledgement while his brother smiled and patted the chair next to him.

  


“Happy birthday Dan!” Adrian greeted happily.

  


“You said that to me this morning,” Dan chuckled, and took his seat at the dinner table. No one talked at the dinner table - a rule decreed by Dan’s father.

  


When the clinking of cutlery came to a halt and plates were cleared away, Dan awkwardly asked if he could go back upstairs. His father stared at him before denying his request.

  


“It’s your sixteenth birthday, Daniel,” he told Dan, “wait until _after_ the celebrations.”

  


Dan nodded obediently and sat back down, waiting for his mother to bring out the cake.

  


“Ah yes thank you, Janet,” he said when she put it on the table.

  


“Thanks mum!” Adrian giggled excitedly - cake was without a doubt his favourite food.

  


Dan smiled slightly and thanked his mum and lit the candles, wondering if Philip had replied to him.

  


_“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you….”_

  


Once he was upstairs and his door was shut, Dan opened up his laptop. He stared at his empty Tumblr inbox and remembered how he replied to Philip. Shaking his head, he moved onto his dash and scrolled for about three seconds before facepalming at his response.

  


_Why did he have to be so inept at everything?_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** laughed at Chris’ overly dramatic recreation of the guest speaker’s lisp.

  


“Tho clath,” he addressed, “tothay we thall learn- he literally spoke like that Phil it was horrible!”

  


Phil chuckled at his friend’s expense. “Well we just had one of those revision things - I don’t think anyone bothered to pay attention.”

  


Chris and PJ shared a look.

  


“What?” Phil asked, almost defensively.

  


“Did you, or did you not use that time to find more on your Mr. Howell?” PJ smirked.

  


Phil blushed and looked down at the table.

  


“I knew it!” Chris exclaimed gleefully, “PJ, you owe me ten pounds!”

  


“You _bet_ on whether or not I would look him up?” Phil asked, staring at his friends in disbelief.

  


“We bet on everything Phil, you should know this by now, “ Chris stated as PJ unwillingly forked over the money. Chris winked and kissed him on the cheek.

  


“Just get married already,” Phil sighed and glared playfully at them.

  


The pair blushed and Phil leaned back in his chair, revelling in the small victory of making Chris embarrassed… for once. Phil looked around the cafe - everyone was coupled off as they usually were by his age.

  


Everyone but him.

  


Phil wished that the heavy feeling would go away soon, but somehow he knew it wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  


PJ followed Phil’s daydreaming gaze to a couple giggling in the corner. He made eye contact with Chris and nodded towards the door.

  


“You finished Phil?” Chris asked, indicating that he wanted to leave.

  


“Wha? - Oh, yeah I’m done,” Phil told him, glancing at his very not finished coffee.

  


“Let’s head back then - I have an essay due tomorrow and I don’t even know what it’s on,” PJ suggested cheerfully, standing up and moving towards the door, Chris following close behind him.

  


Phil took one last sip of his coffee before trailing after them. He smiled at his friends bickering playfully in front of him, used to being the third wheel. PJ and Chris tried to include his as much as possible, and he was grateful for that but Phil usually felt like he was intruding on something.

  


When they got back to the dorms, Phil waved goodbye to his friends, opened the door to his room and sighed. The rooms were allocated in pairs of soulmates, so coming back to his empty room after being surrounded by the warm aura of the coffee shop, and his friends was kinda disheartening.

  


Then Phil remembered.

  


Tumblr.

  


Danisnotonfire.

  


_The message._

  


He took his laptop out of his bag and logged into tumblr.

  


**_Danisnotonfire_ ** _answered your ask_

  


Excitement bubbling through his veins, Phil opened his inbox. He quickly read through the message and smiled. Daniel didn’t really give him much to form an opinion on, but it didn’t really matter - _he was only 16? Really?_

  


Phil wondered why his parents never told him about the other option - the other reason as to why he only had one name. His brow crinkled slightly as he opened Daniel’s ask box and began to type up his question;

  


_Hey Daniel :) I think you might be right about the name thing - it’s surprising how you’re only 16 though (I’m 20). Introductions- (basically stuff you might already know from my social media) I’m studying english linguistics (which can be mind-numbingly boring), my favourite animal is a lion and I really like your handwriting ^__^ - Phil._

  


He checked over it a couple of times to make sure it was devoid of spelling mistakes and sent it before he could second-guess himself. He felt weird - on one hand, his entire body was buzzing with excitement at the fact that after f _our long years_ , he was finally talking to his soulmate, but on the other hand he was trying not to seem like an immature idiot because if he was honest with himself he was more than a little immature for a 20-year-old.

  


Phil laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation - a twenty year old self-proclaimed child eagerly awaiting a response _over tumblr_ from his sixteen year old soulmate whom he’s never met.

  


He went back to his dashboard and stared at the inbox icon for a few seconds before deciding that, seeing as he was already on tumblr, he might as well spend the night scrolling through his dashboard, because if he just accepted that that was what he was going to do there would be no guilt later of _‘I was really going to finish that thing.’_

  


It was about 11pm when Phil checked his activity.

  


**_Danisnotonfire_ ** _has answered your ask_

  


_Just call me Dan - Daniel’s what people call me when I’m in trouble or getting on their nerves or something. My handwriting is awful, for record - all chicken-scratchy and unreadable…_ _yours is nice though._

  


_My favourite animal is a llama and I have absolutely no idea what I’m gonna do in uni - probably something that makes me look smart but is actually excruciatingly boring_

  


_\- Dan_

  


Phil smiled softly as he read over it - it almost felt like he could hear Dan talking, but Phil had never heard his voice so it was kind of confusing.

  


_I’m sure you’ll figure it out - people always do,_ Phil typed, _Whatkind of music do you like? (yea I’m aware this is basically 20 questions but music is crucial) I think my favourites would have to be ones like Muse, FOB and MCR ^__^. You know, I would never have been able to talk to you if you didn’t find my tumblr - you don’t have any social media (yes I tried to find you on google shut up)_

  


_\- Phil (Philip sounds like a horse’s name honestly)_

  


Ideally, this was around the time when Phil was going to sleep but he just _couldn’t_. He couldn’t stop thinking about Dan - what did he look like? What was his favourite food? His opinion of Studio Ghibli? Seemingly small things, but for some reason Phil wanted to know _so bad._ He wanted to learn all the everyday things about Dan, just the things that aren’t very important or interesting.

  


Phil felt like he should _know_ these things already, he should have _experienced_ them before but the fact that he didn’t know _anything_ about Dan left a strange hole in his chest.

  


———

  


**Dan** was happy.

  


Which, for Dan, was strange. He was never happy, but one message from Phil and he was grinning like a madman. Partly because _asdfghjkl Phil likes Muse,_ but mostly because he simply liked talking to him. Dan didn’t understand how, not even two sentences into reading his message, Phil’s words made him so happy.

  


His smile drooped slightly when he read the part about social media - Dan didn’t have social media because he didn’t have any friends. He was that one kid that sat alone, studied alone and got beaten up regularly. No one knew why he got beaten up, but they all knew about it.

  


Dan typed out a quick reply and sent it before he lingered on the topic for too long. Of course, the voices in his head wouldn’t have it.

  


_You’re worthless_ , they crooned softly, pathetic. _I doubt Phil even wants you - your name appeared four years too late._

  


“Shut up,” Dan whispered frantically.

  


_As soon as he sees your scars, he’ll be disgusted by your weak will and you’ll_ **_never hear from him again._ **

  


Dan grasped at his hair, doubling over on his bed, his laptop haphazardly pushed to one side.

  


“No. Stop it,” he pleaded.

  


_Your supposed s o u l m a t e won’t want you - and why should he? Four years, Daniel. Imagine what can happen in four years…_

  


Tears started welling up in Dan’s eyes as he rushed to the bathroom. He opened the last drawer, found his box of razors and extracted a glinting blade with shaky fingers.

  


_That’s it,_ the voices encouraged, _just give in… this is the only way Dan, the only way to forget the p a i n… that_ ** _is_** _what you want, right?_

  


Dan nodded and slowly drew the blade down his wrist, _again_ and _again_. He thought about what would happen if he just gave up - if he sheathed the blade deep in his veins and let ruby red streams flow down his skin… if he just silenced the voices in his head… dying wasn’t so bad… Dan moved the razor closer to his skin, almost unconsciously as if… as if he had known this was the only way for a while…

  


_What would happen if you lived?_

  


Dan’s hand jerked back from his already thrice-cut wrist.

  


_What would happen if you dared… to live?_

  


He didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from, but they were bright and warm. He liked these thoughts rather than the cold, numb, _angry_ ones he was used to. The blood-red voices that crooned in his ear softly, guiding the knife to his wrist, his neck to the noose.

  


Dan smiled softly and turned the blade around in his hands before placing it on his bedside table and wiping a tissue across the red gashes on his wrist.

  


_What would happen if everything turned out okay?_

  


Dan laughed, tears still streaming down his face. ‘Okay’ was a foreign concept to him - he hadn’t been ‘okay’ in a while.

  


_But maybe you will be?_

  


Maybe. Dan liked that word, it meant that it was fine if he wasn’t because maybe held no responsibilities, none of the pressures of _you must_ and none of the guilt of _you will._

  


Dan laid back on his bed and lifted up his left arm.

  


_Maybe they were wrong?_

  


It was a suggestion, not an order, nor a desperate plea, but a suggestion, it left Dan to make the final decision.

  


_Maybe they were._

  


In that moment, it seemed like Dan’s whole world exploded - shattered like a pane of glass. He knew it wasn’t over, this battle he was raging with those angry thoughts and the violent notions, no that war had barely begun, but now he thought he had a chance.

  


———

  


**Phil** frowned as he read Dan’s message.

  


It seemed like it was rushed, for a start. In the beginning it seemed like Dan was talking about what was actually happening to him, but then he tried to cover it up without deleting what he just wrote. For the first time, Phil could almost understand why the heavy feeling in his chest seemed so foreign and wrong - it wasn’t him feeling like this, it was Dan.

  


That scared Phil - why he had no idea - but he knew that this feeling was dangerous to Dan.

  


And that scared the living daylights out of him.

  


_I’ve never had any need for social media because I’ve never had any friends - sure, there are one or two people I’ll say hi to in the corridor, but yea… no one I’d really call a ‘friend’._

  


_Muse is my favourite band by far, but I love fob, mcr and p!atd as well! WHY they’re considered emo I have NO idea ;P and tbh I stalked you for like an hour after I got the tattoo so you’re fine._

  


_If we’re playing 20 questions then I’ll handle the basic things: I’m 16, I have brown hair and brown eyes, I am going to kick your ass at guitar hero no matter what you say, my favourite colour is either black or brown and math is shit._

  


While Phil couldn’t help but smile, the beginning of the message still worried him - what if there was more? What if the horrible, numb feeling was more prominent?

  


_Ok, whoa Phil. Take a step back,_ he thought to himself, _you’ve barely even talked to the boy, what would you know?_

  


Phil breathed out slowly and went onto Dan’s Tumblr to leave a message. He tried several times to shorten what he wanted to say into the appropriate length for an ask box but failed every time, so instead he replaced the lengthy paragraph with one simple request:

  


_Hey Dan, do you have skype? It’ll make it a lot easier to talk ^__^_

  


It was now that time of night that if he woke up anytime before 12pm tomorrow he was going to hate himself and drag his reluctant ass to Starbucks. Phil put his laptop away, but found he couldn’t get to sleep - Dan’s reply was taking over his thoughts.

  


_Did he really not have any friends? None at all?_ Phil was determined to make that change.

  


_Was this what having a soulmate felt like?_

  


Phil woke up to birds chirping and a burning ache in his right arm - right where his tattoo was. He panicked and threw off his shirt, inspecting the black lettering - nothing seemed to be wrong with it.

  


Picking up his phone, Phil called his parents - they ought to know what was wrong, they always know.

  


“Hello? Phil?” his mum asked pleasantly, “Nice to hear from you, I haven’t heard so much as a hello from you in-”

  


“Mum!” Phil interrupted, “So um I forgot to tell you but the rest of my tattoo showed up a couple of nights ago and I know he’s alive now and stuff but now the tattoo is really hurting what do I do?”

  


“Your what did what?” his mum asked, confused, “Phil, slow down I can barely hear a word you’re saying!”

  


“My tattoo showed up a couple of nights ago, and I know he’s not dead because I’ve talked to him and stuff but-”

  


“Oh Phil that’s wonderful news!” she exclaimed happily, “Just wait until I tell Henry, he’ll be thrilled!”

  


“No, mum - you don’t understand!” Phil interrupted stiffly, “It’s really hurting now and I don’t know why.”

  


His mum was silent.

  


“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she tittered nervously, “just some teething problems - you, um, wouldn’t happen to know where his tattoo is, would you?”

  


“How could I possibly know that? I’ve barely even talked to the boy!” Phil exclaimed in exasperation - he just wanted an _answer_.

  


“Well I’m sure it’s fine, like I said,” his mum concluded, before hanging up abruptly.

  


Phil groaned and threw his phone down onto his bed - _what wasn’t she telling him?_

  


_———_

  


_Dan_ stared at his forearm in shock.

  


_How could he have done that?_ He was disgusted with himself, because right across the endearing black scrawl inked out along his scars was a single, weeping, red line.

  


He didn’t mean to, he just slipped - he was putting the blade back in the bathroom drawer but he tripped and… that happened.

  


“I’m sorry,” he whispered desperately to no one in particular.

  


Dan ran clumsily into the bathroom and reached for the disinfectant. He cleaned the cut, hissing at the sting. He didn’t quite know why he was doing this - he never took proper care of his injuries but, in a way he felt like he was hurting Phil by not trying to make it better. It was an absolutely absurd notion, but it felt important to Dan.

  


After disinfecting the shallow wound, he rubbed some salve on it. Dan breathed a sigh of relief as a cool numbness spread along his wrist. He quickly put a band-aid over it and vowed to never again blemish the writing on his arm - the main thing he liked about himself so far.

  


Dan lightly traced the words _Philip Michael Lester_ with his finger - he didn’t understand how he could feel so much for these three simple words, but it didn’t matter, not really, because this was the most he had actually _felt_ in a long time. It was more effective than a razor blade, and kinder than one as well.

  


He pulled down his sleeve and flopped down onto his bed - it was Saturday, so that meant the only times he needed to get out of his bed was for food and to go to the bathroom. Dan sighed contentedly and checked his Tumblr inbox, hoping for a message from Phil.

  


_Hey Dan, do you have skype? It’ll make it a lot easier to talk ^__^_

  


No, he didn’t have Skype. Dan frowned - but he could get it, right?

  


He downloaded the program, signing up with the same stupid name he made up when he was twelve. _Curse you random phase,_ he thought somewhat bitterly. Once he was all set up, he replied to Phil;

  


_Well, I do now - it’s Danisnotonfire (shut up, I made it up when I was 12 and I just always use that now)_

  


After whittling away the time by messing around on Tumblr, he got a notification;

  


_Amazingphil wants to add you as a contact._

  


Dan clicked ‘accept’ and then paused, his hands hovering over the keyboard - w _hat was he supposed to say now?_

  


_Phil Lester is typing…_

  


_Phil Lester: Hey Dan!_

  


_Dan smiled at the simple greeting._

  


_Dan Howell: hi Phil_

  


_Phil Lester: there’s so many more emojis on here! ;) :] ^__^_

  


_Dan smiled - Phil was twenty, but he typed like a twelve year old._

  


_Dan Howell: is that the only reason you wanted to talk to me on this? the emojis?_

  


_Phil Lester: :P no silly, it’s easier and I can use more than two characters._

  


_Dan Howell: Sure. of course. nothing to do with the emojis_ **_at all._ **

  


He chuckled - it was amazing how fast he could fall into casually talking to him - usually he would he awkward and send short, clipped, no-nonsense responses as to not offend them or something… but it was all easy, talking to Phil like this - he felt like they had know each other for years.

  


_Phil Lester: :) well… just a little bit, but shhhh._

  


_Dan Howell: haha, you know, I don’t think I’ve used anything besides the smiley emoji before…_

  


_Phil Lester: how can you even exist?_

  


_Dan Howell: magic._

  


Conversation flowed easily, with topics ranging from Phil writing an eight-page essay on the importance of emotions in everyday life to _holyshitdidyouhearaboutmuse’snewalbum_ to _if you think about it, Mars is entirely populated by robots._

  


They mutually agreed it was too late to keep talking when it was nearing 3am, even though Dan was against the notion entirely - after all, who needs sleep when you have an adorably childish, emoji-loving, funny twenty year old?

  


Logging off, Dan set down his computer and stared at the ceiling. _Phil is just - I can’t even explain it,_ he thought to himself, _Phil’s just… Phil._

  


With sleep weighing down his eyelids, he rolled over and smiled - for once, he couldn’t hear the voices.

  


———

  


**Phil** woke up to a pounding head and sore eyes, but he couldn’t be happier because last night he and Dan had talked - properly, actually talked… granted, it was just messaging but it was infinitely better than the tumblr message box.

  


They hadn’t mentioned the soulmates thing, but it wasn’t some awkward elephant-in-the-room kind of deal, Phil had honestly forgot all about his tattoo and what it meant, and just enjoyed the time he spent with Dan.

  


Phil opened his laptop to find he had an unread message on skype;

  


_Dan Howell: Morning! well… I know it was technically morning before but oh well._

  


Phil giggled. That boy was so adorably awkward.

  


_Phil Lester: haha, morning:P_

  


_Dan Howell: shush._

  


_Phil Lester: I have a couple of things to do today, so I’ll talk to you later, k? :)_

  


_Dan Howell: ok - I’m gonna spend the entire day in my pjs on tumblr. just like yesterday._

  


Phil laughed, that was basically all he would do on Sundays when he was sixteen - Saturdays were usually spent messing around with PJ.

  


As they got older, Chris would join them. Phil felt a stab of sympathy for Dan who, despite how cheerful he seemed in his messages, was obviously sad at least 90% of the time.

  


Phil grabbed his bag and headed outside - he desperately needed to start this assignment. True, it was due in like a month, but Phil tended to need a week to procrastinate and put off everything. He wasn’t going to do that this time - after all, it was something he enjoyed doing - unlike writing essays… How naive he had been when he thought he had seen the end of those horrible tasks along with sixth form.

  


You can never escape the essays.

  


No, Phil enjoyed writing stories, he just always had a hard time with the rules he was set for the story - no dialogue? The characters never shut up. Boy meets girl? Boy is on the other side of the world and girl is dating another girl. Important political topic? The main character was a unicorn and spent the entire story eating purple grass.

  


His only set rule for this story was that it had to be true - the basis of the story had to be an actual, real-life event that happened to Phil or someone he knew.

  


Phil had no idea where he was supposed to start. He felt vaguely poetic today so he wanted to write about a tough time someone went through, or an impossible love story, or the imaginative dreams of a six-year-old - it didn’t matter, as long as it was something he could make a story out of.

  


The only thing even remotely dramatic that had ever happened to Phil was the tattoo thing - and even he didn’t know what was going on! And Phil didn’t exactly want to call his grandpa up be all like: “Hey grandpa! How did you feel when your soulmate got shot in front of you?”

  


He shuddered - he didn’t want to ask _anybody_ about death, so it was down to unlikely lovers or… or whatever else people got poetic over.

  


It took Phil all of half an hour to walk to Starbucks and in that time he still had no idea who to ask or what to write about - asking Chris and PJ was awkward, his parents didn’t exactly have the most exciting get-together story: they were literally next door neighbours and then husband and wife. It didn’t take long.

  


None of the other people in his family (that he knew of) had anything he could ask about, and he hadn’t even met Dan in person yet, despite how much he liked talking to him.

  


Phil was at a loss.

  


He joined the queue and mulled over his options - his parents were really the only feasible route here. Phil internally shrugged, knowing him he would change his mind in a week and write the story all over again.

  


After ordering a caramel macchiato he went to find a place to sit, thankful for his timing, as he seemed to claim a table right before the lunch time rush.

  


Sipping his coffee, Phil opened a word document and glared at the cursor. The _one day_ he decides not to procrastinate and he can’t write a single thing. Phil shifted his gaze to the Skype icon - _well, it’s not like I’m making any progress here,_ he thought to himself as he opened the application.

  


_Phil Lester: Heeeeelp… I can’t do this assignment…._

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell: And how much help do you expect me to be? I’m 16, failing english and I have no idea how to edit. like, at all._

  


_Phil Lester: :( please? I just need your help with an idea_

  


_Dan Howell: Ideas I can do - execution, not so much._

  


Phil smiled at Dan’s response, grateful that he could at least get a second opinion.

  


_Phil Lester: I’m supposed to write a story based on something that actually happened, or a person that actually existed (but I have to have known them). I’m feeling kinda poetic today but I can’t think of anything that won’t either be offensive or awkward to ask someone ;__;_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell: Well, did anything particularly good/bad happen to you? I’m sure if you’re feeling poetic, even the simplest of things can seem interesting_

  


Phil stared at Dan’s message for a while - how could he only be 16? The conversations he’d had with Dan the previous night had really made him think, and then he goes and says things like _this?_

  


It was exactly what Phil needed to hear.

  


_Phil Lester: Thanks Dan! ^__^ I’ll be sure to ask you if I get stuck on something again ;)_

  


_———_

  


**Dan** blushed slightly as he read Phil’s message - that was the first time anyone had thanked him for something he’d said. He couldn’t believe Phil had actually thought to come to him when he was stuck with something.

  


Dan didn’t want to get his hopes up, but did that mean that he and Phil were starting to become friends?

  


The thought caused more heat to rush to Dan’s cheeks and he hid his smile in his much-too-large jumper. Dan glanced at his left forearm happily before returning to tumblr.

  


Dan was dreading school tomorrow, mainly because the dickhead-that-usually-beat-him-up’s suspension had come to an end, and he would be back to failing all his classes and making Dan’s life miserable. He sighed and reblogged a few gifs of random crap that appeared on his dash.

  


After he shared a silent dinner with the rest of his family, Dan made stiff, mandatory small-talk with his father about his tattoo - the one topic he never wanted to discuss with that man.

  


“Have you met her yet?” he asked gruffly.

  


“No.” _I’ve talked to him though._

  


“Do you know where she lives?”

  


“No.” _He lives somewhere in Manchester… I wonder what his accent sounds like…_

  


“Well, what about social media? She must have that!” he was getting impatient with Dan’s monosyllabic answers.

  


“No.” **_She_** _doesn’t have social media because_ ** _she_** _doesn’t exist. Phil does, however, I’ve stalked all his social media and holy hell is he hot._

  


“Are you even trying Daniel?! You’re sixteen - you should be trying to find her! This is the girl you will spend the rest of your life with. Do you understand me?!” He roared, thinning black hair becoming slick with sweat as he got angrier and angrier, yellowing teeth becoming prominent and day-old stubble scratched around his mouth.

  


“Jesus Christ dad, I only got the tattoo on Friday! Give me some time!” Dan exclaimed in fake exasperation.

  


“Daniel,” his mother warned quietly.

  


Dan mumbled an apology and, with one final steely glare at his dad, he ran upstairs.

  


_What was he going to do when his dad found out the truth?_ Dan thought worriedly, _I can’t hide forever… sooner or later, I’m going to have to tell him…_

  


Dan collapsed face-first onto his bed. This was _not_ happening right now. He was happy for once - he even fucking _blushed_ over this guy and yet he knew, he _knew_ that that as soon as his dad found out he would have his tattoo removed (a slow and painful process) and he would be forced to marry a random girl and have kids with her and he would never even hear from Phil ever again - that’s just the type of dad he was.

  


Of course that Dan realised that if his dad wasn’t raised with these beliefs instilled into him, he wouldn’t be like this, but he was, and there would never be a time where Dan wasn’t going to be afraid of him.

  


Dan opened his laptop and saw that he had an unread message from Phil. Smiling despite his situation, he clicked on the application.

  


_Phil Lester: hey, thanks for your help earlier - you’re a lifesaver! How can you be failing english?_

  


_Dan Howell: Easily. I just kind of suck all round at school. The people there don’t exactly help with my education either._

  


_Phil Lester is typing…_

  


_Phil Lester: I’m sorry to hear that :( I’d like to say it gets better at uni, but there are some complete jerkfaces over here as well._

  


Dan laughed. Phil never seemed to swear - to the extent that it made it seem like all his insults came from a six-year-old.

  


_Dan Howell: yay… looking forward to a further education then_

  


_Phil Lester: aw, don’t be like that - uni’s great! no more useless, crappy lessons about things you’re not even remotely interested in._

  


_Dan rolled his eyes at Phil’s justification - nothing would ever make him believe that any form ofschool was not full of 100% suck._

  


_Dan Howell: I’m sure. Is it true that everyone just spends their first year hungover?_

  


_Phil Lester: Yea, pretty much. Word from the much older, wiser person: don’t do that._

  


_Dan Howell: jfc Phil you’re 20 not 80. Don’t pretend to be old and wise because we both know you’re not_

  


_Phil Lester: Hey! I resent that!and how do you know how wise I may or may not be? I could be an owl and you would never know!_

  


Dan giggled - he quite liked Phil’s quirky comeback to everything Dan said, they were unexpected and Dan wondered what it would be like having that immediate response.

  


_Dan Howell: I’m pretty sure owls don’t have facebook_

  


_Dan Howell: or skype_

  


_Dan Howell: or even computers for that matter_

  


_Dan Howell: they certainly don’t have tattoos_

  


Dan felt all the air rush out of him - why’d he have to go and say that?! _Idiot!_

  


That was the first either of them had said about the matter - they were soulmates, but neither of them had addressed it like people usually did and Dan just had to be the one to fuck everything up, didn’t he?

  


_Phil Lester is typing…_

  


_Phil Lester: Ok, you caught me - but I swear my friends are owls sometimes :P_

  


Dan breathed a sigh of relief - he didn’t make everything completely awkward between them, like he usually did with most people.

  


_Dan Howell: Oh? how so?_

  


_Phil Lester: PJ’s too clever for his own good (much clever, very wise) and Chris is nocturnal and hoots._

  


_Dan Howell: hoots?_

  


_Phil Lester: occasionally._

  


_Dan Howell: Manchester is weird…_

  


_Phil Lester: No it’s not! I promise ;) well… aside from those few people who always seem to target me_

  


_Dan Howell: ooh, do go on! I’m always interested to hear about alien encounters!_

  


_Phil Lester: shush you :P_

  


_Phil Lester: Once I was walking down this road and there was a creepy guy sitting there and he was staring at me so I started walking faster (as you do)… but the street was a dead end O.o_

  


_Dan Howell: oh dear… this story just_ **_screams_ ** _kidnapping_

  


_Phil Lester: So I walked back and as I was walking past he just yelled out ‘sideways gary!’_

  


_Dan Howell: wtf?_

  


_Phil Lester: I don’t even know_

  


They ended up going to bed at 3am - this was a new record for them. Phil wished Dan good luck for tomorrow - well, today - and logged off.

  


Dan closed his laptop with a smile. Talking to Phil was going to become his favourite thing to do if this was how all their conversations went - and to become his favourite thing, it would have to surpass Tumblr and for Dan, that was saying something.

  


There was just something about Phil, Dan didn’t know what but it was nice, simply… nice.

  


Dan stayed in the contented state for a while before shaking his head - he’s just tired, this.. _whatever_ it is… will stop in the morning.

  


———

  


**Phil** woke up late.

  


He seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

  


It was eleven forty-five, to be precise, and Phil panicked for a moment before realising he didn’t have a lecture until three.

  


Phil turned on his computer and unconsciously smiled when he saw Dan’s messages:

  


_Dan Howell: Good morning!_

  


_Dan Howell: what am I saying, there is nothing good about this morning_

  


_Dan Howell: You’re probably still asleep, so it’s a good morning for you…_

  


_Dan Howell: I hate school_

  


_Dan Howell: pls send help_

  


Phil had already learned of Dan’s drama queen tendencies and sarcastic sense of humour, so he just chuckled and replied:

  


_Phil Lester: Yes, it was a good morning - considering the fact that I slept through it ^__^ I would help, but I’m all the way in manchester and I have no idea where you are - aside from far away, my young friend :P have fun!_

  


He stood up from his bed and stretched, his back cracking from staying in the same awkward position for so long. He still had three hours to kill, so after he showered and dressed, Phil knocked on Chris and PJ’s door.

  


“You better have your clothes on!” Phil yelled through the door.

  


He heard yelling from inside and a very smug-looking PJ answered the door, still wearing dishevelled pyjamas and bed-socks.

  


“Hey Phil! Come in, we’re just playing a friendly game of Monopoly-”

  


“It is _not_ friendly,” Chris interrupted, “it’s a battle to the bloody, bankrupt death - and I’m losing.”

  


Phil laughed mockingly at Chris. “I learnt a long time ago never to play against Peej in Monopoly - you’re never gonna win Chris.”

  


Chris scowled before sticking his middle finger up at Phil and PJ burst out laughing.

  


“Monopoly’s a stupid game…” Chris sulked.

  


Pj turned and made his way over to Chris and hugged him from behind. “Awe is liddle Chwissy upset?” he cooed.

  


“No, I’m just an extremely sore loser, get it right,” Chris scoffed.

  


“Shall we play a different game then?” PJ suggested, smirking - he knew winning Monopoly had given him bragging rights for at least two days.

  


“Imma kick both your asses at Mario Kart,” Chris stated competitively, grabbing a controller.

  


_I bet Dan could kick everyone’s asses in Mario Kart,_ Phil thought, then shook his head, wondering where the thought had come from.

  


He took the two other controllers and gave one to PJ.

  


“I call player 1!” Chris exclaimed as he pressed start before either Phil or PJ could.

  


Phil sat back and leaned against the bed. “Seeing as Chris has the coveted title of Player One, where are we going first?” he asked, faking nonchalance.

  


_Please not Rainbow Road, Please not Rainbow Road…._

  


“Rainbow Road!” Chris yelled gleefully, “Just because it’s your favourite Phil.”

  


Phil glared at him - it was definitely no secret that Rainbow Road was the bane of his existence whenever they played Mario Kart.

  


PJ chuckled along with Chris and they begun the game.

  


Once again, shivers of pain ran up Phil’s arm and he kept shaking it but he couldn’t tell what was wrong.

  


Due to this, Phil didn’t even finish after the amount of times he fell off, Chris came fifth and PJ came eighth.

  


“I hate you. Both of you,” Phil mumbled darkly.

  


“Nah,” Chris grinned, “you just suck at Mario Kart.”

  


PJ smacked him playfully on the back of his head. “Shut it, your royal big headedness.”

  


“You love me,” Chris retorted.

  


“Yea, yea,” PJ waved off.

  


Phil smiled at the exchange. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Dan, which was slightly strange - he couldn’t develop a crush over two nights of Skype conversations and six tumblr messages… could he? Phil didn’t even know what the boy looked like!

  


_But you know he likes Muse, his favourite animal is a llama, he’s adorably awkward, gives really good advice, sometimes just wants to throw a textbooks at his teacher’s face, has the most interesting things to say and he has your name tattooed somewhere on him, just like you have his and really, when you know things like that - does his appearance, or his voice really matter?_

  


Phil had come to a conclusion: he really really liked Daniel James Howell.

  


———

  


**Dan** winced as he tried to stand.

  


Nope, wasn’t happening. The last bell was sure to ring soon, and Dan had spent the better part of the day on the floor of the unused boy’s bathroom.

  


Which was as disgusting as it sounds.

  


He was correct in his assumptions on how the day would go - dickhead comes back to school, everyone beats Dan up and then walk away without a second glance, clapping each other on the back as they went, chatting about boobs or whatever the hell those douches talked about.

  


Dan shuffled painfully so he was sitting upright, back against the wall. He leaned his head back against the wall gingerly - he could feel every muscle screaming, every single bone groaning in protest.

  


He really regretted wearing a white jumper today - the edges were now smattered with blood and grime.

  


_Sorry Phil, no bright side to this one…_ Dan jerked his head forward in surprise, and immediately regretted it. Yes, Phil had told him to try and find an upside to every situation, but why would he think of Phil in a time like this?

  


Dan stayed in that position and didn’t attempt to move again until the bell had rung. He groaned with his aching joints as he slowly limped over to the mirror - it could be worse.

  


He only had one notable bruise on his face, and his lip was split in two different places, the rest of the damage was covered up, just like the rest of his scars.

  


He hastily checked his right forearm and found that some of his cuts had opened again. Dan didn’t even want to know that the rest of him looked like.

  


He slowly made his way to the bus stop, a few residual students who missed the first bus there as well giving him wary glances. Dan rolled his eyes, it wasn’t as if he was going to turn them into the new punching bags, but that’s how they always acted around him - as if they were treading on glass.

  


The second bus came a few agonising minutes later and the gap between the pavement and the bus felt like jogging up Mt Everest.

  


The bus driver had given him a fleeting sympathetic glance and waited until he sat down to drive off.

  


Dan sighed as he leant his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He braced himself for each of the bumps and turns as the bus drove around, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the pounding waves of agony that flared through his legs as he stepped off the bus.

  


It took Dan twenty minutes to walk down the street and up to his house, with an extra three to get the door open. His heart sank as he realised he would have to miss out on talking to Phil due to his bruised knuckles and shaking hands.

  


After making his way into the silent house - thankful for his parents’ late hours and his brother’s sports team - he stood at the bottom of the stairs. The once-easy movement now seemed like an unconquerable mountain. He took a deep breath and decided to just get up as quickly as possible.

  


Bad idea. Very, very bad idea.

  


By the time Dan was up the stairs, his legs were shaking horribly, his stomach hurt like hell and his arms were hanging limp by his sides.

  


He hobbled to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, slowly pulling his jumper up.

  


Purple and blue splodges painted his chest and stomach, his arms bled angry red rivers where he himself has sliced open his flesh in pure desperation and need - a need to silence the voices in his head.

  


Dan collapsed onto his bed, the air rushing out of him as he sunk into the comfortable mattress. He reached down, wincing at the movement, and grabbed his computer - he was just going to go on Netflix and binge-watch everything until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

  


Those plans were shot down as soon as the screen opened on Skype.

  


_Phil Lester: Yes, it was a good morning - considering the fact that I slept through it ^__^. I would help, but I’m all the way in manchester and I have no idea where you are - aside from far away, my young friend :P have fun!_

  


Dan cracked a small, painful smile. If only he knew how real that plea for help was…

  


He gingerly moved his fingers to the keyboard - he really shouldn’t be moving at all - and began to type out his message.

  


———

  


**Phil** had been on Skype, hands raised just above the keyboard for about two minutes now - he wanted to tell Dan about all the things he did that day.

  


He wanted to tell Dan how Chris annihilated both him and PJ at Mario Kart, how his lecture on film history was just as boring as the last and _oh yea, I really like you and I love your handwriting and I spent that entire lecture thinking about how your voice would sound._

  


Maybe not that last part.

  


Phil had it _bad_.

  


Something was stopping him. Something was telling him to let Dan go first, so that was what he was doing.

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell: I can’t talk tonight sorry_

  


_Phil Lester: Are you okay?_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


_Dan Howell: Im fine._

  


Phil frowned - judging from how long it was talking Dan to type, he was most certainly not fine. He glanced at where his tattoo was, a dull ache throbbing through his arm.

  


_Phil Lester: Dan, I know you’re not and I’m not gonna push you or anything but I’m getting a bit worried_

  


_Dan Howell is typing…_

  


Phil felt a ball of worry start to crawl up into his throat - what if he was hurt? Or sick? What if he didn’t want to talk-

  


_Dan Howell: cant hurts_

  


Phil’s blood ran cold. What happened? _What could have possibly happened to him to make it too painful to type?_

  


After a moment’s consideration, Phil pressed the call button.

  


He waited anxiously for Dan to pick up - what if he didn’t want to talk to Phil? A thousand scenarios were running through his head, and none of them were good.

  


“Hey,” Dan said croakily, like he hadn’t spoken in a while. Phil smiled - he couldn’t see Dan because he hadn’t turned his camera on, but it didn’t matter.

  


“Hey, are you okay? Be honest,” Phil pleaded.

  


Dan was silent for a few moments. “No,” he sighed, pain lacing his words, ”I told you there were some dickheads in my school.”

  


“You got beat up?” Phil asked incredulously - this was the answer he had feared.

  


“Yea,” Dan replied simply, “But it’s nothing new…”

  


Phil’s eyes widened. “Dan how long has this been going on?”

  


“Quite a while - since year 7 I think.”

  


Phil couldn’t believe it - he didn’t _want_ to believe it. True, he had only known him for a couple of days but to Phil it felt like years and just the thought of him in this situation was unfathomable.

  


“I wish I could help…” he whispered regretfully.

  


“You kind of have,” came Dan’s voice from the computer, and Phil looked up quizzically, “I mean… I really like talking to you… and stuff..”

  


Phil smiled slightly. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…” he trailed off, leaving the invitation hanging.

  


“Could we just talk?” Dan asked hopefully.

  


Phil nodded. “Of course, but I still think it’s unfair that you know what I look like and all I have to go on is your voice” he hinted.

  


“… My face isn’t anything special - I have plain brown eyes and annoyingly curly brown hair that I straighten every morning,” Dan explained.

  


“I’m sure there’s more to you than that,” Phil smiled.

  


Dan switched on his camera and Phil could finally put face, name and personality together.

  


“I told you there was nothing special,” Dan commented simply.

  


Phil shook his head, almost lost for words - he thought Dan was beautiful. He traced his eyes over soft brown hair and slightly tanned skin and smiled. Dan was, if nothing else, special.

  


“Well, I disagree,” Phil said after his tongue had found the words.

  


Dan blushed slightly, making the bruise on his right cheek more prominent, and Phil frowned when he saw the marks on Dan’s face that were obviously not meant to be there - the bruise, the cuts on his lip - but he ignored them for Dan’s sake.

  


“Have you heard of a thing called Punk Goes Pop?” Dan piped up randomly.

  


Phil shook his head.

  


“It’s where a bunch of punk rock bands do covers of pop songs and there’s only about two I can actually listen to without laughing,” Dan explained.

  


Phil smiled, it was nice to lapse back into this easy conversation, despite everything being more… _personal_. Seeing Dan’s face light up as he talked about the album made everything seem more real, somehow.

  


“I’ll be sure to check it out,” he promised.

  


Dan smiled back at him, _and holy hell Phil was so far gone for this boy._

  


“I can just hear a screamo version of Toxic now…” Phil trailed off dramatically and Dan laughed.

  


“Toxic’s actually alright, but some of them are horrible.”

  


“Y’know what else is horrible?” Phil started, changing the topic.

  


“What?” Dan asked playfully.

  


“My friend Chris and Mario Kart - I can never beat him!” Phil complained, “Every time I go over to his and PJ’s it’s like ‘Hey Phil, wanna have a go on Rainbow Road? And every time I- this isn’t funny Dan!”

  


Dan laughed even more. “They sound like great friends,” he giggled.

  


Phil pouted playfully. “You don’t understand! I suck at Mario Kart to begin with, but _Rainbow Freaking Road?”_

  


“I’ve completed everything on it,” Dan gloated, “but that’s mainly because I procrastinate too much.”

  


“I’m sure that’s a great technique,” Phil drawled sarcastically, “bet it really gets you in the teacher’s good books!”

  


“Oh don’t act like procrastinating is not what you do 90% of the time!”

  


———

  


**Dan** slowly cracked open his eyes,

  


Before he even moved, he knew he wasn’t going to school today - he felt like the slightestmovement would make him projectile vomit everywhere.

  


He painstakingly shifted himself so he was sitting upright against the headboard. Dan found his computer, now listing at a dangerous angle, and brought it so the screen was facing him.

  


After staring at the screen for a few moments, a deep red blush crept across his face - they had fallen asleep while calling, and Phil was still sleeping.

  


He felt like a complete creeper but _holy shit Phil was adorable._

  


“Phil?” Dan called, trying to wake him up, “Phil! Wake up!”

  


“Huh? Wazgoinon?” Phil mumbled sleepily, his head jerking up from where it rested on his hands.

  


Dan giggled at his dishevelled appearance and messy hair. “We fell asleep, the year is now 2022,” he recited in a monotonous voice.

  


“What’s the time?” Phil asked, stretching and wiping at his eyes.

  


“Uuuh.. 9:45,” Dan told him distractedly.

  


Phil’s eyes widened and he shot out of bed. “I have a lecture at 10:15! And it’s on the other side of campus!”

  


“Oh dear,” Dan laughed, “run Forrest, run!”

  


“Shut it you!” Phil retorted playfully, “I gotta hurry - call you later?”

  


He smiled and nodded. “You better haul ass if you wanna get there in time!” He jeered playfully, laughing as Phil stuck his tongue out and ended the call.

  


Dan sighed heavily and leant his head back. He had barely kept it together because _holy fuck his morning voice and when he stretched and just asdfghjkl._

  


Dan giggled at how silly he sounded - he had it so fucking bad for Philip Michael Lester.

  


It was some time around twelve when Dan got up again, his aching muscles providing plenty of reasons why not to bother. He half-limped, half-hobbled into the bathroom and took off his jumper, wincing at the action.

  


Dan stared at the bruises warily, they really didn’t hold back, did they? He reached for some muscle-relaxing salve and rubbed a generous amount on his stomach, feeling cool relief spread throughout his body.

  


He thought of the long conversation he had with Phil last night - how Dan could tell he wanted to ask more about his face and how Dan flinched when he reached for something, but he didn’t say a word. He really did want to give Phil a better explanation then _oh yea I’ve been getting beat up since year seven_ but giving too much detail was dangerous - he couldn’t afford to show Phil everything..

  


Phil would hate him.

  


He would hate him if he saw what Dan does to his wrists, how he’s too weak to fight back.

  


Dan picked up his bloodied jumper and trailed back to his room gloomily - the pain significantly reduced. He changed into a random black shirt and switched his skinny jeans with tracksuit pants.

  


Haphazardly falling back onto his bed, Dan put his headphones in and slowly drifted off, dreaming of a blue eyed boy with blue eyes and a lopsided smile.

  


———

  


**Phil** thought that being woken up by Dan was by far the best thing to happen to him this week, and should definitely happen more often.

  


Partly because his _hair is curly and he looks too cute for me to handle_ but also because it made him think about waking up next to Dan, cuddling him and going on dates and Phil really wished that that was their situation, rather than long Skype calls and a lack of knowing what exactly they were - friends? Friends who were soulmates? Friends who could possibly be more? Friends who were definitely more?

  


Phil knew that the soulmates thing could mean either friends or… boyfriends kind of thing, and Phil knew that he was head-over-heels but Dan was _sixteen_ , he probably didn’t know _how_ he felt about the whole situation.

  


Phil had a friend who was forever stuck in the friendzone with her soulmate and he definitely did not want that.

  


“Hey stranger,” PJ greeted as Phil entered the lecture hall, “what happened? You’re always late nowadays.”

  


PJ was smirking his head off, and Phil knew he just loved making him squirm.

  


“I… fell asleep, on Skype with, um, Dan and I only woke up at 9:45,” Phil explained, carefully trying not to give too much away.

  


PJ’s eyes glinted mischievously, and Phil knew he was in for a long morning. “So, what does Sir Daniel James Howell look like?” he asked.

  


A smile unconsciously made its way onto Phil’s face as he thought about him. “He has curly brown hair that he that he straightens because he doesn’t like it - says he looks like a hobbit. He has a fringe like mine, except that it goes the other way and it suits him a lot better. His eyes are brown, but it’s like a smooth kind of brown like… chocolate? And when he smiles he gets these dimples and- what?”

  


PJ was smiling in a way that said _I am most definitely laughing at you right now._ “Oh nothing,” he remarked conversationally, “you’re just completely and utterly in love with this boy.”

  


Phil blushed and avoided PJ’s gaze. “How can I fall in love with someone in just three days?” he asked, sounding like he was questioning himself more than PJ.

  


“You tell me Phil,” PJ shrugged, “you tell me…”

  


That was all he said as the teacher came into the room, placing her things on the desk and clearing her throat as she began talking.

  


_Love? How is that even possible?_

  


Phil had read his fair share of books with relationships in them, and he was definitely sure they didn’t fall in love in three days. How long did it take for his parents to fall in love?

  


He never thought to ask.

  


He rubbed his tattoo uncomfortably. How would you know if you were in love? What is love?

  


Phil laughed and put his face in his hands. _I know Dan’s rubbing off on me if I start questioning things that should be left to philosophers._

  


“You alright there?” PJ asked, “You seem to be stressing a little too much over the importance of the oxford comma.”

  


Phil glared at PJ, knowing he was basically the source of his current debate.

  


“You do know it’s entirely possible, right?” PJ whispered out of the corner of his mouth, still looking at the front.

  


“What do you mean?” Phil asked, slowly taking out his computer and making it look like he was paying attention.

  


“It’s entirely possible for you to love Dan - I think I fell in love with Chris about an hour and a half after I met him… see this?” he pointed to his tattoo, just behind his ear, “This basically means you’re gonna like them a lot really quickly, no matter how illegible their writing is.”

  


They laughed - Phil knew how frustrated PJ was when he couldn’t read Chris’ handwriting, it was a wonder they met at all.

  


“I don’t know… it just feels weird, to talk to my soulmate after thinking he was dead for four years,” Phil confessed.

  


“Right, okay, Phil?” PJ started, “A blind man could see that you like him, and he’s very much not dead.”

  


“Really Peej?” Phil retorted sarcastically, “I didn’t realise he wasn’t dead.”

  


PJ took his glasses off his face and checked them, before handing them back. “Your eyesight must be worse than I thought,” he remarked in mock-worry, giggling.

  


“Ha ha” Phil drawled, “I hate you.”

  


“And you love Dan, your point?” PJ shot back, almost falling off his chair as Phil shoved him.

  


———

  


**Dan** smiled as he read the message Phil had sent him;

  


_Phil Lester: I swear I’m either gonna punch PJ or fall asleep - you have no idea how boring this lady’s voice is. Wish I could call you ;)_

  


Dan blushed, then cursed Phil for making him blush.

  


(again)

  


He wondered is it was the soulmates thing or just Phil himself, but Dan couldn’t stop thinking about him, and whenever Phil sent him a new message his stomach felt all fuzzy and his hands tingled.

  


Was that normal?

  


He didn’t know and, quite frankly, he didn’t care.

  


_Dan Howell: aw, poor Philly. Have fun at your super interesting lecture while I stay at home on tumblr all day._

  


_Dan Howell: what a boring life I lead. Woe is me._

  


_Phil Lester: you’re staying at home? Is it because of what happened? :( I’m worried_

  


Dan cursed himself for revealing his current physical state and for making Phil worried - there was no reason for him to be worried over someone like Dan…

  


_Dan Howell: I’m fine - there was an essay thing due today that I haven’t even started so I faked sick_

  


_Phil Lester: if you say so…_

  


_Phil Lester: (I’m not convinced, but I’ll let it slide)_

  


_Phil Lester: the lecture will be finished soon, can I get your number so we can keep talking?_

  


Dan quickly typed out his phone number and hit send.

  


_Dan Howell: just warning you, I am the literal worst at replying to texts_

  


_Phil Lester: I’ll keep that in mind XP cya ^__^_

  


Dan smiled, _Phil and his emojis…_

  


Not twenty seconds later, his phone lit up with a text from an unknown number:

  


_Hey x - unknown_

  


Dan blushed at the small, seemingly innocent ‘x’ t the end of Phil’s text. Did that mean what he thought that meant?

  


_Oh my god I am such a 12 year old girl._

  


_It’s just a letter._

  


_Chill the fuck out Dan._

  


_Hey, you punch PJ in the face yet? - DH_

  


_Wait, I hope this is is Phil - DH_

  


_Otherwise this suddenly got really awkward - DH_

  


_^__^ yep, it’s Phil xx - unknown_

  


_And no, I haven’t punched him, I’m about to though - unknown_

  


Dan laughed and entered Phil into his contacts.

  


_What’d he do? - DH_

  


_He keeps teasing me - Phil_

  


_About? - DH_

  


_Me stressing over the lecture - Phil_

  


_Damn, sounds like uni sucks ass - DH_

  


_nope, just the people - Phil_

  


_PJ just yelled ‘hey!’ over my shoulder - Phil_

  


_Hi PJ, Phil says you suck ass - DH_

  


Dan giggled, his humour was mostly made up of inappropriate innuendos and sarcasm.

  


_PJ told me to tell you something I am not repeating ever - Phil_

  


_;) - DH_

  


_We’re heading back to the dorm now, so I’ll message you later? - Phil_

  


_Always - DH_

  


———

  


**Phil** groaned, he hated PJ for bringing up Dan in front of Chris, because now he would never stop.

  


“I hope you know I’ll be stalking your little lover boy on Tumblr,” Chris hummed.

  


Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. “Please try to remember that he’s only sixteen, so don’t message him with anything too weird - and why do you need to stalk him anyway?” he asked.

  


“I need to familiarize myself with the boy you’ll be marrying - and since he’s only sixteen, he probably has no idea how gay sex works, so I might as well tell him about that as well,” Chris told him conversationally.

  


“Chris!” Phil spluttered indignantly.

  


Sniggering, Chris turned towards Phil. “What?” he asked innocently, “I’m only joking… mostly…”

  


“I worry about him sometimes,” PJ sighed.

  


“Hey!” Chris exclaimed, “I resent that!”

  


They laughed as PJ opened the door, playfully trying to slam it closed before Chris could get in.

  


“I’m just never going to get rid of you, am I?” PJ sighed in faux exasperation.

  


“Nope” Chris giggled, pecking him on the lips before making his way inside.

  


Phil rolled his eyes. “I hope you two realise how disgustingly coupley you are,” he drawled.

  


“Oh we know, it’s just to spite you really,” Chris replied easily.

  


“Thanks.”

  


“You’re welcome,” PJ chimed in.

  


Just as PJ had turned the TV on, Phil’s phone buzzed.

  


_One of the new Muse songs just came out! The video’s a bit odd but the song’s alright x -DH_

  


Phil smiled and was about to reply when his phone was snatched out of his hands.

  


“Hey!” he cried in protest, but the only response was PJ’s triumphant laugh.

  


Chris read out the text in an odd voice. “Already up to _xoxo_ are you Phil?” he asked mockingly, “How cute.”

  


“Shut up,” Phil mumbled, rouge dusting his cheeks.

  


Chris and PJ whispered for a bit, tapping on the phone before handing the phone back to Phil.

  


“Merry Christmas, Philip,” Chris snickered.

  


“What did you…” Phil trailed off as he read the text they sent, embarrassment crawling up his spine.

  


“Oh I hate you,” he mumbled, huffily turning back to the screen and blushing heavily.

  


_Hello Daniel! This is Chris and PJ, we commandeered Phil’s phone. It’s nice to finally meet Phil’s little lover boy <3\. Stay safe and use protection!_

  


Phil dropped his phone into his lap and determinedly focused on the TV - what could Dan possibly say to that?

  


His phone buzzed again and Phil handed it to Chris without looking at it.

  


“I think that’s Dan,” was all he said.

  


They read over the text before bursting out laughing.

  


“Your boy’s got some serious sass up his sleeve,” Chris giggled.

  


Phil carefully glanced at the pair and PJ handed the device over.

  


_little lover boy? Isn’t it little lion man? Because that would be Phil and that makes your text really weird, but speaking of protection, how was last night boys? - DH_

  


Phil put his head in his hands. “Daaaaan,” he groaned - how could he say something like that?

  


He pressed call and waited for him to pick up.

  


“Yeees?” Dan answered slyly.

  


“You can’t just say something like that Dan!” Phil exclaimed, embarrassed.

  


“Why not? They started it!” he giggled childishly.

  


“Is that little lover boy?” Chris asked, Phil rolled his eyes and nodded.

  


“Can I talk to him?”

  


Phil warily gazed at Chris, wondering what he was scheming in that meddlesome brain of his.

  


“Go on,” Dan prompted, who heard him loud and clear. Phil handed the phone over gingerly, feeling like he had either started WWIII or created the new Weasley twins.

  


“You sassy lil shit,” Chris muttered as soon as the device was in his grasp, “you probably blushed like a motherfucker before you replied, didn’t you?”

  


“Well, taking into account what I did to your mum last night, yea I did blush like a _motherfucker,”_ Dan replied quickly.

  


Chris laughed. “I am sure you did, Howell.”

  


“Am I talking to Chris or PJ?” Dan asked.

  


“Chris.”

  


“Well Chris, I’m sure you and PJ could learn a few things about keeping quiet - those university wall are pretty thin from what I hear,” Dan hummed.

  


Chris blanched. “What has Phil told you? And why are you talking about us having sex?” he asked incredulously.

  


Dan started laughing. “Phil hasn’t mentioned a thing, but you have, just now.”

  


Chris could practically _hear_ Dan’s smirk. He shook his head and passed the phone back to Phil. Both he and PJ were blushing, having heard the conversation.

  


“I like him,” Chris stated, chuckling. PJ buried his face in Chris’ shoulder and groaned.

  


“You’re the worst,” he mumbled.

  


“Well that was interesting,” Phil summed up, making Dan laugh.

  


“Wasn’t it just?” he exclaimed gleefully.

  


Phil shook his head. “First of all, I hate you both-”

  


“You love me!” Chris interrupted.

  


“Shut up Chris!” Phil yelled offhandedly, “Skype you later?”

  


“Of course, have fun~”

  


“I hate you!”

  


Phil laughed and hung up.

  


———

  


**Dan** sighed as he put down the phone - why couldn’t he just take a fucking joke?

  


He _knew_ what Phil meant when he said “I hate you” - he meant “I _don’t_ hate you I’m being sarcastic” but the voices in Dan’s head warped the light-hearted tone into one of malice and anger.

  


_Phil hates you~ Phil hates you~_ they sung.

  


Dan shook his head desperately, trying to dispel the mocking crowd - he had been clean, he had been happy… he really was just an unstable mess after all…

  


_Go on,_ they crooned, j _ust once… don’t you want the p a i n to go away?_

  


Dan nodded mutely. _Yes, I want to forget all the pain._

  


All the pain of his dad hating the way he was, the words on his arm, the pain of never being good enough, the pain of always being compared to his little brother, the pain of the rumours at school, the people at school… everything was building up in the worst way possible and before he knew it he was kneeling on the floor, blade poised and ready to strike.

  


Silent tears streamed down his face and landed on his wrist.

  


Dan hated it.

  


He hated how he was so weak that he had to rely on the relief of a small piece of metal to keep him going.

  


He gave a spluttery, humourless laugh - keep going was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted to do right now.

  


_So what’s stopping you?_

  


Dan brought the blade down hard and fast against his wrist.

  


_What’s keeping you here? N o t h i n g !_

  


He drew a slow, deliberate line across his rightforearm, letting the blood bead along the incision.

  


_Who would even miss you?_

  


No one.

  


No one would miss him - his dad would take one look at his tattoo and laugh, his mother would sigh and shake her head - just one more mess to clean up, his brother would see it as a reason to take the bigger bedroom.

  


No one would miss him.

  


_So WHAT’S STOPPING YOU?_

  


Tears were blurring his vision and his fingers were slick with blood.

  


_DO IT_

  


Dan lined up the blade with his vein, he was finally going to end it - end everything, no more pain, no more blood to flow…

  


_Is that right, little lover boy?_

  


Dan dropped the blade in shock.

  


_No one would miss you?_

  


He shook his head desperately. How could anyone miss _him?_

  


_Not even Phil?_

  


Dan faltered… _Would_ Phil miss him?

  


_I think he would._

  


But how? How could anyone _possibly_ cherish his pathetic existence enough to _miss_ him?

  


_I don’t know l_ **_ittle lover boy,_ ** _you tell me._

  


Dan heard the Skype ringtone coming from his computer. He gasped and hastily put the blade away. After wiping his eyes and throwing on a jumper, he jumped on his bed and answered the call.

  


“Hey,” he greeted shakily, subtly putting pressure on the cuts.

  


“Dan are you okay?,” Phil asked, panicked, “You look like you’ve been crying…”

  


Dan gasped and quickly checked his appearance - he looked awful.

  


“Don’t worry about it Phil,” he dismissed hurriedly, “just… helping mum cut some onions.”

  


Phil frowned. “You’re a really bad liar Dan…” he whispered softly.

  


Those six words were enough for Dan’s heart to sink to his stomach.

  


“I said forget about it…” he mumbled in a last-ditch effort to keep his secret.

  


“No Dan,” Phil protested, “you’re still bruised from yesterday, your blog is full of suicidal notions and now you answer a call looking like this and you tell me not to worry about it?!”

  


Dan looked down shamefully.

  


“I can’t just stop _worrying_ , Dan! Because… because I really like you - so please don’t shut me out,” Phil pleaded.

  


Tears were welling up in Dan’s eyes again.

  


_Told you Phil would miss you._

  


He blinked the tears away. “You really want to know?” he asked, his voice broken and scratchy from crying. Phil nodded earnestly.

  


Dan took a deep breath and explained everything - his dad, school, his brother, how everything was just _too much all the time._

  


He recounted how the angry, hissing voices had made him do it and _I’m sorry please don’t hate me._

  


By the end of it, both of them were in tears and Phil was telling Dan _I don’t hate you please never think that way ever again,_ and Dan was falling for Phil all over again because Phil knew, _Phil knew,_ and he didn’t call him pathetic or weak.

  


Phil called him _brave_.

  


“Dan,” he whispered, “you are so incredibly brave for telling me - just please, _please_ , remember that _I love you_ and I promise that everything will get better.”

  


“I love you too,” Dan whispered back, “thank you Phil.”

  


_Thank you for everything you haven’t said._

  


_Thank you for crying over me, even if I’m not worth it._

  


_Thank you for saying you love me, even if I don’t deserve it._

  


_Why don’t you leave it up to Phil whether you deserve it or not?_

  


Phil smiled softly. “I wish I was there with you so I could just hug you until you felt better,” he admitted, despite knowing that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  


“I wish you were here too..”

  


“Where are you anyway?” Phil asked, “Somewhere south I’m guessing, going from your posh accent.”

  


Dan gave a spluttery laugh. “Wokingham,” he sniffed, “And it’s not posh, I just know how to enunciate my words.”

  


“Wow, that’s a long way away - can’t exactly just hop on a train for twenty minutes, can I?” Philremarked wistfully.

  


“No,” Dan agreed, “But at the end of the year, all year elevens get off two weeks early.”

  


“What?” Phil wondered, “Why?”

  


“Because most people turn sixteen in year eleven, so we’re supposed to use those two weeks to find our soulmates and stuff,” Dan explained.

  


“Wow, _my_ school never did anything like that.”

  


“Our principal is a total romantic - found his soulmate literally the day after he turned sixteen,” Dan laughed, wiping stray tears from his face.

  


“Well if it means I get to see you then sure! Whatever works,” Phil told him, trying to keep the mood light.

  


Dan laughed and brought his hand up to scratch his cheek but stopped when he saw Phil’s face.

  


“What?” he asked, oblivious.

  


“Dan, look at your hand,” Phil instructed carefully, his voice shaky and deadly serious.

  


Dan dragged his vision down to his hand and saw that it was covered in blood - he must have cut deeper than he thought.

  


_“Shit,”_ he hissed as he darted into the bathroom. He bandaged up his cuts and washed the thick red liquid off his hand.

  


_How could he do this to himself?_

  


_Was he really that s t u p i d ?_

  


_———_

  


**Phil’s** heart was in shreds.

  


He never expected Dan to have this kind of problem, he would never have guessed that this was the extent of that unnatural sadness he had been feeling ever since Dan’s full name appeared on his arm… _God, that seemed like such a long time ago._

  


When Dan returned, he quickly shot Phil a meek, apologetic glance and retook his place against the headboard.

  


“Dan…” Phil murmured cautiously, “Can you show me your arms please?”

  


Dan froze for a few seconds then nodded. He slowly removed his jumper and when his shirt lifted up Phil got a glance at the yellowing bruises on Dan’s stomach.

  


He stared at the mass of discoloured skin in horror - he hadn’t realised the extent of damage before.

  


Once he had discarded the restricting article of clothing, Dan took a deep breath and turned both his wrists to face the camera.

  


Phil’sjaw dropped - over his left forearm were the words _Philip Michael Lester_ in his own handwriting, but under the lettering were bleach-white scars, so many Phil couldn’t even count them. His right wrist had been wrapped in a bandage, and three red streaks had bled through.

  


Several white lines could be seen dotted around the bandage, and that scared Phil more than anything.

  


Through his name was a thin red line.

  


_I felt that,_ Phil thought, _I felt all his anguish and pain when he did that._

  


_I never want him to feel like that again._

  


“Please don’t hate me,” Dan whispered pleadingly.

  


Phil’s heart wrenched. “Dan… Dan look at me,” Dan raised his head, “I could never hate you. _Ever.”_

  


A single tear fell from Dan’s eye.

  


_“Thank you.”_

  


They talked all through the night, because really who needs sleep when you have a brown-eyed boy with a beautiful smile that Phil would do anything to see again?

  


It was 9:20am when Phil woke up, the Skype call still going.

  


He smiled - Dan looked so peaceful and innocent, violently opposed to last night when it seemed like the weight of the world sat upon his shoulders.

  


“Dan,” he called softly - guess he wasn’t going to school again, as he was already twenty minutes late, “Dan! Come on Bear, wake up.”

  


Bear was what his mother used to call him, and Phil thought it was adorable so he’s just decided that’s what he’s calling Dan from now on.

  


“Nngh,” Dan whined, “too early…”

  


He scrunched up his eyes to avoid the sunlight, but sat up and stretched anyway.

  


Again Phil caught sight of the bruises and winced - Dan was the last person Phil could think of that deserves something like that.

  


“Morning,” Dan greeted sleepily.

  


Phil smiled - his curly hair was too adorable for him to handle right now. Check back later when he could function without swooning.

  


Phil’s phone buzzed on the the bedside table. He picked it up and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that he had about 18 missed calls from Chris and PJ. Each.

  


A number of unread texts showed up on his screen, all saying generally the same thing - WHERE ARE YOU?

  


_Oops,_ Phil thought, _I was supposed to meet them for breakfast after their first lectures._

  


He sent a quick text to PJ apologizing for missing it and making them worry. Phil turned off his phone and places it back on the table.

  


“What’s up?” Dan asked groggily, still not completely awake.

  


“Nothing much, just accidentally bailed on Chris and PJ,” Phil explained sheepishly.

  


Dan’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he apologized meekly.

  


Phil shook his head. “Don’t be,” he retorted, “I’d much rather be here with you right now.”

  


Dan blushed. “So that wasn’t a dream? Everything that happened last night?” he asked.

  


“Nope. That was all real,” Phil smiled and stretched, “to be honest, I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love so quickly.”

  


He smirked as he watched Dan’s face flush even darker. “Neither did I…” he whispered.

  


———

  


**Dan’s** heart dropped as he heard footsteps coming up to his room.

  


“Shh, Phil, shush - whatever happens you have to stay quiet, ok?” he whispered frantically, dreading that it was his father. Phil nodded, a concerned frown painted across his face.

  


There was a knock at the door and Dan sighed in relief - his dad never knocks.

  


“Dan…?” his mother asked as she slipped into the room, “Are you ok? You haven’t come down to dinner in the past two nights - have you eaten anything?”

  


Dan nodded. “Yea, I’m just not feeling too good - I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow” he lied smoothly.

  


“Well, I hope so… also, your father wanted me to tell you that Adrian has a competition all the way up in Manchester, and I know you never come to these things but I don’t like you staying in the house by yourself while we’re-”

  


“I’ll come!” Dan interrupted.

  


His mother smiled brightly. “Great! It’ll be like a family trip!” she cheered.

  


“Y-yea,” Dan agreed hesitantly, _except I’ll most likely be spending the whole time with Phil._

  


“Okay… well, I’ll leave you to… whatever it is you do up here everyday, don’t forget to pack!” his mother quickly left the room and Dan mouth formed a face-splitting smile.

  


“You’re coming here!” Phil exclaimed happily, “I won’t have to wait like fifty years to see you!”

  


Dan nodded, opening his mouth to agree when his door burst open and Adrian ran in. He jumped on Dan’s chest before he had time to react.

  


“Oof! Adrian… get off me,” Dan groaned, short of breath from the impact.

  


“Is it true you’re coming to Manchester with us?” he asked excitedly as he scrambled off his brother, “You _never_ come to any of my sport things!”

  


Dan chuckled and nodded, wrapping his arm around Adrian’s small shoulders and closing his eyes.

  


“Who’s that?”

  


Dan’s eyes flew open. “That’s my… friend, Phil,” he introduced nervously. Adrian waved at the screen cheerfully.

  


“Hi Phil!” he greeted, “I’m Dan’s brother, and my name’s Adrian!”

  


“Hey Adrian,” Phil chuckled, waving back at him.

  


“I’m ten,” Adrian said proudly.

  


_“Bye Adrian,”_ Dan drawled. 

  


Adrian pouted. “But I wanna staaaaaay,” he protested.

  


“Sod off,” Dan quipped. Adrian stuck his tongue out at his elder brother and ran off.

  


“Why isn’t he at school either?” Phil asked curiously.

  


“Probably packing - knowing my mother, she waited until the last possible day to tell me,” Dan explained.

  


“I probably have to go soon - Chris and PJ’ll be knocking on my door and demanding a reason I missed breakfast with them,” Phil chuckled.

  


Dan pouted. “But I like talking to you,” he whined.

  


“You’re remarkably like your brother,” Phil mused.

  


“Shut up, no we’re not.”

  


“Sure Dan, whatever you say,” Phil smirked.

  


Dan played with the sleeves of his jumper, the conversation lapsing.

  


“Hey Dan?” Phil started, “I just wanted to say-”

  


“WHERE the actual FUCK have you been?” A familiar voice exclaimed as the door was smashed open.

  


“How did you get in?” Phil shouted in surprise.

  


“You need to find a better spot for your spare key, Philip,” Chris scolded mockingly, “under the doormat isn’t very original.”

  


Dan smirked and raised his eyebrow. Under the doormat? he thought, really Phil?

  


“Seriously though, why didn’t you come?” a second, unrecognisable voice asked, “You’re never one to ditch, not at least without an explanation.”

  


“Usually he’s just hungover,” Chris remarked flippantly.

  


Dan giggled - he couldn’t help it, just the thought of Phil being hungover was incredibly amusing to him.

  


“Is that the sound of a Daniel?” Chris asked after a few moments of silence and Dan could just _hear_ the smug expression he was wearing.

  


“Present!” Dan called as Phil’s cheeks heated up.

  


Chris walked up to Phil’s bed and turned the computer around so he could see two people smirking at him. “So this is little lover boy,” one said, grinning mischievously.

  


“In the pixels,” Dan replied.

  


He moved forward so his face was right up close to the screen and Dan could see the words _Peter-James Liguori_ on his index finger as he adjusted the camera.

  


“We meet at last,” he cackled. 

  


“I assume you’re PJ?” Dan asked, completely ignoring Chris.

  


“Hey!” Chris cried indignantly, apparently quite annoyed at being ignored.

  


“That I am,” PJ introduced, “nice to meet you I guess, I’ve certainly heard enough about you.”

  


“PJ!” Phil exclaimed as a blush crept up his neck.

  


Dan laughed. “Oh? And what might that be?” he asked, much to Phil’s chagrin.

  


“That you have the cutest smile and your taste in music is the best and this and that,” PJ drawled, “basically he adores you and thinks you’re amazing.”

  


Phil groaned and flopped back onto his bed, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at anyone. “I hate you,” he mumbled.

  


“Suit yourself Phillip,” Chris chirped, “I’ll just have a nice chat with Dan here, alright?”

  


Phil opened one eye at Chris’ unusually innocent tone. “Dan that’s code for you’re gonna die,” he informed, before closing his eyes again.

  


“Great, thanks for helping me Phil,” Dan commented sarcastically.

  


“You’re welcome.”

  


Chris moved the camera so all Dan could see was one of his eyes. “You better get your posh ass up here so Phil can stop moping about like an idiot,” he smirked, “honestly he’s like a lost puppy half the time.”

  


“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dan chuckled, “my brother actually had a sports thingy in Manchester soon.”

  


“Ew sports,” Chris mumbled as he placed the laptop on Phil’s bed again.

  


“What even is sports?” PJ added sarcastically.

  


“Dan!” his mum yelled through the door, “Who are you talking to?”

  


Dan motioned for all of them to be quiet. “No one mum, why?” he replied.

  


“Don’t lie to me Daniel James Howell!”

  


“I was talking to myself!” Dan insisted.

  


“Whatever, you better start packing if we plan to leave tomorrow,” she concluded, and Dan could hear her walking away from his door.

  


“Your mum sounds scary,” PJ laughed.

  


Dan gave him a half-hearted smile - _it’s not her I need to worry about._

  


“Well, you heard what she said - I better go,” Dan told them.

  


“Mumma’s boy,” Chris whispered.

  


Phil whacked him upside the head playfully. “I’ll talk to you later?” he asked hopefully.

  


“Of course,” Dan smiled, “see you later Phil.”

  


“I’m counting on it.”

  


Dan logged off and closed his computer, before look around his room in disdain.

  


He didn’t even know where to _begin_ packing, let alone finding a suitcase. Sighing, Dan slid off his bed and started putting the clothes he wanted to bring into a pile.

  


_It’s too quiet._

  


The only noise in the room was the sound of his breathing as he crawled from pile to pile. He scavenged his phone from the creases of his duvet and plugged it into the speakers.

  


Dan was feeling strangely happy today - after all, Phil had told him he loved him and he was going to spend a week up in Manchester.

  


_You say things with your mouth,_

_Cobwebs and flies come out,_

  


He laughed at the unusual lyrics and bobbed his head to the upbeat tune.

  


_I hear a second voice,_

_Behind your tongue somehow,_

  


He pulled his suitcase from the depths of his closet - that’s where it was - and unceremoniously dumped the pile of clothes into it.

  


_Luckily I can read your mind,_

_Flies and cobwebs unwind,_

  


Singing along softly, he got up and went into his bathroom. Dan placed his toothbrush, hairbrush and straighteners into a bag and padded back into his room.

  


_They will not take you down,_

_They will not take you out…_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** slumped back against the tree - why on _Earth_ did he decide to study outside?

  


Granted the test was in a week, so he had plenty of time to look over his notes that he was bound to get distracted from at some point of another.

  


He picked up his pen and began copying out the important information.

  


Well, he tried to at least.

  


First, it was the sound of a child’s laughter as he chased a dog around the park, then a bird had come dangerously close to his notebook, then the wind picked up and he had to hold the loose sheets of paper down.

  


His phone buzzed.

  


_Let’s face it, I am not going to get any of this done am I?_ He mentally sighed.

  


“Nope,” Phil agreed out loud, before shaking his head at his behaviour.

  


_Phil, I need to talk to you, call me when you have time - mum x_

  


Frowning, Phil re-read the text, an increasing sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

  


He had time _now_ , right?

  


“Phil… hi,” his mum greeted.

  


“Hey mum, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Phil asked, doubting he wanted to know the answer.

  


“It’s about your… tattoo,” she started warily, “and how you were missing part of it before.”

  


“You said you didn’t know,” Phil reminded her accusingly.

  


“It’s not so much _that_ as I didn’t know _how_ to tell you,” she tittered.

  


Phil’s heart dropped to his feet, and he gulped nervously. “What? Is there something wrong with me? How long have you known? Did Dan-”

  


“Phil!” she interrupted, “Just… just let me talk.”

  


Silence.

  


“Ok.”

  


His mother let out a sigh. “Phil… when your sixteenth birthday came around, I knew immediately what had happened, everybody knows what happens if your tattoo doesn’t appear fully by then…” she trailed off, and Phil was afraid of what she was going to say next.

  


“Phil, something awful would have happened,” her words were careful and her tone was slow and deliberate, “I don’t know what, but it would have been bad.”

  


“Mum… what do you mean?” Phil asked, incredulous, “You’re not making any sense.”

  


“These tattoos we have, the set date is not sixteen, it’s really whenever you’re supposed to find them, but it’s usually by the time one or both of you are sixteen. I didn’t tell you this because most people who don’t have theirs by sixteen go a little crazy trying to find them before they’re ready,” she explained, panic edging at her words.

  


“Riiight,” Phil drawled, dubious and slightly scared, “and you know this how?”

  


“When you have a child, they give you this package, full of all the stuff about soulmates and tattoos and things like that,” his mum explained.

  


“Ok, let me get this straight…” Phil sighed, “You let me believe I was defective, not _worthy_ of love, for _four years?”_

  


“Phil, I’m sorry but I just thought-” she exclaimed

  


“You thought wrong.”

  


The birds sung in the trees, the cars drove down the road and the soft static of the phone crackled in Phil’s ear, but neither spoke a word.

  


“Phil…” It was whisper, a sigh of a sound that shattered the silence.

  


“Mum, I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I didn’t mean that, I just… need time to process… and Google.”

  


His mother let out a soft, strained chuckle.

  


“Alright Phil I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, ok?” She suggested, her voice hopeful.

  


“Sure.”

  


“I love you,” she concluded.

  


“…Love you too,” Phil responded, and hung up.

  


Sighing, he collected his notes that were strewn across the grass and started the journey back home.

  


Phil remembered his sixteenth birthday, he remembered fighting to keep his eyes open until the clock ticked over to midnight and he roamed his eyes over his skin, and there it was.

  


_Daniel._

  


Just _Daniel_.

  


His mother had run into his room, buzzing with excitement. The smile fell off her face as she saw her son, staring at his arm like the internet was slow and the page wasn’t loading.

  


_“Why won’t the rest of it appear?”_ he had asked.

  


_“Um… Daniel… Daniel didn’t make it to sixteen,”_ she explained, a sob seemingly getting caught in her throat.

  


_“But.. but why?”_ his voice had come out in a mere whimper.

  


_“It’s ok,”_ she had promised, holding him close, _“you don’t need a soulmate to be happy.”_

  


But all that… everything that had happened these past four years.. all the questions and the curious stares, all that time he felt like he was missing out on something amazing everyone shared… could have been avoided.

  


Phil chuckled bitterly to himself as he remembered how much he had searched, and _searched_ for anything that might explain his lacking tattoo.

  


Slotting the key into the lock, Phil pushed open the door and dumped his notes on his desk. He opened his laptop and debated calling Dan to tell him, but decided against it. Dan was busy enough as it was.

  


_I shouldn’t make such a big deal out of this,_ Phil chided himself, _at least I know the truth now._

  


His phone lit up with a new text and he groaned, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment.

  


_Just getting on the train now xx - DH_

  


The corner of Phil’s mouth quirked up slightly at the simple message, the earlier swirl of unpleasant feelings forgotten, replaced with a bubbling excitement - _Dan was going to be here soon!_

  


Wait… how long is the train ride from Wokingham to Manchester?

  


Phil got out his laptop and checked, excitement bubbling in his veins.

  


_Three hours, forty-one minutes._

  


Dan was going to be here in _three hours._

  


Phil couldn’t decide if that was too long or not long enough.

  


He set his computer down, before he knocked it off the bed. Lying down, Phil let his thoughts whizz through his mind. He thought about that one assessment he had to finish and how lucky Chris and PJ were. He thought about what his mother told him and how he felt about it, but most of all, he thought about Dan.

  


Dan… Dan was just amazing.

  


There was no other way to say it.

  


A smile slowly spread across Phil’s face as he thought about his…his…

  


_What were they?_

  


He loved Dan, that he was certain of, and Dan said he loved Phil, so they were definitely a _something._

  


_Boyfriends?_

  


A blush crept up Phil’s neck. He imagined actually calling Dan _his boyfriend_ \- going on dates, cuddling when it was cold, kissing him…

  


Just Dan _being_ there.

  


Phil groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach - _what was that boy doing to him?_

  


Suddenly those three hours it would take Dan to get here was an eternity.

  


Why did distance even have to _exist?_ Phil wished it would just disappear.

  


Or, better yet, he could invent teleportation.

  


He glanced at the clock on his bedside table -

  


_Three hours, thirty-five minutes to go…_

  


_———_

  


**Dan** was fidgety.

  


Bouncing around in his seat, tangling his fingers together and smoothing over his hair in nervousness.

  


The train had blue-padded seats and smelt like chemicals and iron, the countryside was speeding past the window in a green blur.

  


Dan, unfortunately, was squished up against the side by his brother and their mother was probably entertaining a conversation with a stranger behind them.

  


_Three hours, thirty-five minutes to go…_

  


“Daniel, for God’s sake, calm down,” his mother scolded when she saw him.

  


“Sorry mum,” he apologised, rolling his eyes and opting instead to pry his phone out of the pockets of his tight skinny jeans.

  


Opening the Tumblr app, he was thankful to find he still had signal.

  


_Amazingphil_ _tagged you in a post:_ _Danisnotonfire’s_ _coming today and suddenly everything is sooo sloooow - hurry up and get here!_

  


Dan blushed, feeling something swell up inside him and catch in his throat.

  


He liked the post, then reblogged it with the comment:

  


_You utter spork, how can I relate so much to something so cheesy?_

  


Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at the whole situation, he kept scrolling.

  


_Three hours, twenty-nine minutes to go…_

  


“Hey Dan, you ok?” Adrian asked, “You look a bit red.”

  


Dan gave an awkward chuckle. “I’m fine Adrian,” he assured.

  


Shrugging, Adrian went back to his DS.

  


_Amazingphil_ _reblogged your post and added: because it’s true?_

  


Dan smiled.

  


_Doesn’t make it any less cheesy,_ he wrote.

  


Dan could imagine Phil in his small university dorm, reblogging their stupid conversation, a pile of unfinished schoolwork on the bed next to him.

  


_Amazingphil_ _reblogged your post and added: sometimes we all need some cheesiness in our lives :P_

  


Dan rolled his eyes, Phil was a dork.

  


_You don’t even like cheese._

  


_sshhhHHH_

  


Dan was pulled out of his bubble when one of his followers reblogged their conversation and told them they were cute.

  


He felt like an idiot - the entirety of Tumblr had just been subject to their stupid half-flirting, half-teasing form of communication and Dan wasn’t sure whether he felt flattered or mortified.

  


Deciding to just forget about it, he tried to distract himself by stalking Phil’s Tumblr. As long as he didn’t like something Phil posted five years ago, he would remain none the wiser.

  


_Three hours, twenty-two minutes to go…_

  


Dan sighed and turned off his phone - the thing with travelling in the country was that you only had signal for about ten seconds, so he had resorted to looking out the window.

  


With his face pressed against the cool glass, Dan let his mind wander.

  


_What would Manchester be like?_

  


_What would they do there?_

  


_Phil said he had some things planned…_

  


Dan took in a deep breath as the reality of the situation sunk in - _he was going to see Phil._

  


“Oh, stop huffing Dan, it’s not _that_ long,” his mother scolded, “I still don’t know why your father didn’t want to come…”

  


He shrugged noncommittally, but internally he was laughing - a whole week without his dad and he was getting to see Phil?

  


_Christmas, I tell you,_ Dan thought happily

  


“Now, I know you’ll probably want to do your own thing when we get there, but could you at least be there for Adrian’s competition?” his mother asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  


Dan nodded.

  


_Three hours, thirteen minutes to go…_

  


“Daaaaaaaan,” Adrian whined, thrusting his DS into Dan’s face, “I can’t get past this level!”

  


“Really?” Dan asked dubiously as he took the controller, “It’s one of the easiest ones.”

  


It wasn’t, of course, but it was Dan’s job as a smart-ass of an elder brother to say it was.

  


He had played New Super Mario Bros so many times however, that it didn’t take long for him to pass the level and hand the controller back to him brother, a bored, slightly leering smile painted onto his face.

  


“You’re welcome,” he teased.

  


“How long have we got to go?” Adrian asked off-handedly once the DS was back in his hands.

  


Dan checked his phone and sighed.

  


“Three hours, two minutes.”

  


Adrian pouted. “I should have brought more things to do,” he mumbled.

  


Dan chuckled and ruffled his brother’s hair playfully before leaning his head against the cool glass of the window and watched the scenery go past. His foot kept tapping incessantly on the floor, as if the excitement in his veins couldn’t handle staying still.

  


_There’s still, like, fifty-seven hours left!_ he grumbled to himself, _calm the fuck down!_

  


It didn’t work.

  


Dan rolled his eyes and plugging his headphones in, allowing the melodic voice of Brendon Urie to fill his mind.

  


_This song reminds me of Phil…_ he mused, light blush dusting his cheeks.

  


He skipped the song.

  


_So does this…_

  


_And again…_

  


Dan rolled his eyes, giving in to the fact that probably _every_ song was going to remind him of Phil.

  


“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Adrian asked.

  


“I’m fine,” was Dan’s curt response, “go back to your game, Adrian.”

  


Adrian stuck his tongue.

  


Dan closed his eyes and tapped his feet along to the music.

  


_Phil said he really liked this song…_

  


An image of Phil, eyes bright and hands up popped into his mind. Dan’s lips quirked into a shy smile.

  


_Two hours, fifty minutes to go…_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** felt like his entire body was buzzing with anticipation.

  


_Dan’s gonna be here in like two hours,_ Phil thought, _smiling happily._

  


He honestly didn’t know how it was possible to think about someone so much, for him to make _this much_ of a difference on Phil’s life so fast…

  


Most of him didn’t care, because it was _Dan_.

  


_Two hours, forty-eight minutes to go…_

  


_You do you your room’s a mess, right?_

  


Phil bolted up and stared around his room frantically.

  


Clothes littered the floor, discarded pieces of paper dominated his desk and various plushies and figures were scattered about the room.

  


Phil sighed and got out of bed, before reaching down and picking up a shirt - _well, at least there’s something to do,_ he thought, _better than just laying on your bed and daydreaming until Dan gets here in any case._

  


_Two hours, twenty minutes to go…_

  


He stood up from his kneeling position, groaning at the stiff feeling in his legs. He looked around his - now spotless - room, before slumping back on his bed.

  


The door flew open. “I knew it,” came Chris’ voice from the hall, “he’s doing the cleaning thing again.”

  


“What do you mean _the cleaning thing?”_ Phil asked somewhat defensively from the cushy sanctuary of his bed.

  


“Whenever you’re nervous or excited and you have nothing to do you just start cleaning your room,” he elaborated with a shrug.

  


PJ walked up to Chris and looked into Phil’s room.

  


“Really Phil?” he asked, “The cleaning thing?”

  


Phil huffed. “At least it’s productive,” he defended childishly.

  


The pair came into his room and sat themselves down on the floor, PJ’s head in Chris’ lap.

  


“I think it’s even cleaner than the day you moved in,” Chris goaded, playing absentmindedly with PJ’s hair, “and you didn’t even have any furniture then!”

  


A blush swept across Phil’s face as he sat up. “Shut up PJ,” he mumbled, “at least I clean my room.”

  


“Awwe, isn’t he cute?” PJ cooed.

  


PJ was silenced by a pillow to the face, courtesy of Phil.

  


Smirking, he sat up and grabbed the corners of the offending cushion before running at his unassuming friend. Laughing, Phil grabbed another pillow and fought back desperately, cursing the height difference they had when PJ was towering over the bed.

  


Chris let out a bout of mirth and joined in, grabbing the remaining pillow and whacking his boyfriend over the head.

  


“Your betrayal wounds me, Chris,” PJ told him seriously, “I regret having to do this to you.”

  


With that, he attacked.

  


Phil giggled at the pair, but the smile soon fell off his face as they both turned to look at him, mischievous smirks stuck on their faces.

  


“Oh no,” Phil protested when he realised what they were going to do, ‘no no nonono… ah!”

  


He was backed up against the wall. No way out. Chris and PJ barraged him with the soft weapons before all three of them burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

  


Phil lay starfished on the bed while Chris and PJ leaned against the sides.

  


“I think that’s the most exercise I’ve done since mandated PE,” PJ huffed.

  


Phil glanced that the clock, and felt all the air rush out of him.

  


_One hour to go…_

  


“Dan’s gonna be here in _one hour_ I can’t deal with anything right now,” he sighed.

  


“You need to chill,” Chris told him forcefully, “Little Lover Boy’s still gonna be here when you calm the fuck down.”

  


PJ giggled as Phil spluttered indignantly that he _was not a twelve-year-old fangirl thankyouverymuch._

  


“Have you told him you love him yet?” PJ asked out of the blue.

  


“Um… well I… I just-”

  


“You totally have!” Chris exclaimed, jumping up onto the bed, “Spill, and why did _he_ know before I did?” 

  


“I don’t know…” Phil trailed, his face an alarming shade of pink, “It just sort of… slipped out..”

  


_‘Slipped out’_ was the very _opposite_ of how it happened, but they didn’t need to know that.

  


PJ ruffled Phil’s hair playfully. “Well, you two are adorable, have you told Dan where to meet you yet?” he asked.

  


“No!” Phil exclaimed, reaching over to his phone and dialing Dan’s number. 

  


_“Phil?”_ Dan responded curiously, _“What’s up?”_

  


“I just realised we never arranged a place to meet,” Phil told him simply, shoving Chris away at his incredulous expression because _I reminded you Phil you lil shit!_

  


_“Oh yea, what about the big wheel thing?”_ Dan proposed.

  


Phil nodded, before remembering that Dan couldn’t see him. “Um-yea, that sounds great..” he stuttered.

  


_“Cool…”_ Dan was smiling, he could tell, _“Oops, I gotta go, see you soon!”_

  


_Hey is that Phil? Can I talk to him? Hi Phil! Wait-_ Dan hung up.

  


Phil giggled slightly and put his phone back on his bedside table.

  


“You are so fucking smitten holy _shit,”_ Chris intoned, groaning and flopping down on the bed face-first.

  


_Fifty-three minutes to go…_

  


_———_

  


**Dan** couldn’t shake the smile off his face.

  


“Hey mum, can I go sightseeing when we get to the station?” he asked excitedly.

  


His mum pulled a face.

  


_“Pleeease?”_

  


“Ok,” she sighed, “but remember to be back at the hotel by six.”

  


He nodded. “I will, and thanks!” he promised.

  


Never had fifty minutes seemed _so fucking long,_ and he had _Mr. Jeffries_ for maths.

  


Sighing, he stared out the window again, watching the blurred greys, blues and whites of the city fly past him.

  


His music was still blaring in his ears, and Dan was nodding his head along to the beat. With a giddy smile playing at his lips, he mouthed the words to the song and thought about what Manchester would be like, what _Phil_ would be like.

  


_Forty-five minutes to go…_

  


Dan had stared out the window for the majority of the trip, wondering about everything and nothing at the same time… which.. sounds weird, now that he thinks about it.

  


Weird and much too poetic for his liking.

  


_Thirty minutes to go…_

  


Dan felt like he was getting too excited for this, but part of him didn’t care because he’d been sitting in that seat for _three fucking hours_ and those _three fucking hours_ have now been whittled down to _half and hour_ and _oh god I’m not hyperventilating you’re hyperventilating._

  


_Twenty minutes to go…_

  


Ok, who the actual _fuck_ is speeding up time?

  


_Ten minutes to go…_

  


_One minute._

  


_One. Fucking. Minute._

  


Dan could see the station and he literally thought he was going to split his face open because he was smiling so much.

  


“What’s got you so excited?” his mum asked dubiously.

  


“…I’m-uh, it’s just cool to be in a different place,” Dan made up on the spot. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he was going to go see his… well, his _Phil_.

  


His mother winked at him and smiled.

  


_“The train has now arrived at Manchester Station,”_ the automated voice sounded, _“we hope you have enjoyed your journey.”_

  


Dan’s leg was bouncing up and down, urging him to get off the train right this second and run to the bloody ferris wheel already.

  


“Just wait until everyone else gets off,” his mum told him, “It’ll be less of a squeeze.”

  


Dan sighed and flopped back into his chair. _Really mum?_

  


Adrian giggled at his expression, before clambering over Dan and sitting in his lap. “Hi,” he greeted.

  


“Hi,” Dan responded, “what do you want?”

  


“Nothing, what do _you_ want?”

  


“To get of this god forsaken train for one thing,” Dan quipped.

  


His mother tapped his shoulder. “Let’s go boys,” she instructed.

  


Dan promptly shoved Adrian off his lap, catching him just before he smacked onto the floor.

  


“That’s _enough_ you two, I don’t want to cause a scene.”

  


They got out of the train and collected their luggage, Dan and Adrian teasing each other mercilessly behind their mother’s back.

  


Dan got out his phone and sent a quick text to Phil:

  


_Manchester looks weird_

  


He barely had to wait two seconds before his phone buzzed.

  


_You’re here?!_

  


_Yep._

  


_:D_

  


They took a taxi back to the hotel they were staying at and Dan just dumped his bag on the floor.

  


“Hey mum, can I-”

  


“Yes, Dan you can go, don’t get lost or something.”

  


Dan laughed slightly as he exited the hotel, walking down the street, trying to flag down a taxi.

  


“The-uhm, the big ferris wheel please,” he directed awkwardly - what was it actually called?

  


The driver nodded, smiling at him quickly before he pulled away from the curb.

  


_Guess where I’m going,_ he texted Phil.

  


He got back an image of a very large wheel that looked like rotating death.

  


_Guess where I am!_

  


Dan breathed in shakily, clutching his phone tightly to keep his hands from quivering. There suddenly wasn’t nearly enough air in the cab and he felt like he was honestly going to _explode_.

  


“Here we are Sir,” the cabbie prompted.

  


Dan forked over the money and got out of the car, throwing a _‘keep the change’_ over his shoulder.

  


He called Phil, not wanting to spend the next hour trying to find each other.

  


“Hey you,” Phil greeted cheerfully, “please tell me you’re here.”

  


“I’m here,” Dan confirmed, smiling, “where are you?”

  


“Right at the front.”

  


Dan started speed walking towards the large silver circle, his heart pounding painfully loud in his chest and his entire body humming with urgency.

  


“I can’t see you,” Dan told him once he reached the front.

  


“…Turn around,” came Phil’s small voice from his phone.

  


Holding his breath, Dan pivoted. Wide eyes raking the scattered crowd for the already familiar crop of black hair.

  


Then he saw him.

  


Phil was _beautiful._

  


Dan’s breath caught in his throat and something was welling up in his chest, making it hard to believe he wasn’t a bomb.

  


_One foot in front of the other…_

  


Faster, _faster_ , he urged himself, sprinting towards Phil.

  


They met halfway, bodies clashing and arms reaching around, pulling the other closer, so close that there was no space between them.

  


Dan’s heart was beating hard and fast, and he was sure that Phil could hear it as well, but he no longer felt like he was going to explode…

  


In fact, he felt perfectly content.

  


To Dan, that moment, arms wrapped around each other, clutching tightly to shirts and the feeling of Phil here was… perfect.

  


———

  


**Phil** couldn’t believe what was happening.

  


_Dan._

  


_Dan was here, in his arms._

  


Phil couldn’t tell how much time had passed, when they finally drew away from the embrace, but he didn’t care either.

  


Keeping their foreheads touching, Phil smiled broadly. “You’re here,” he whispered excitedly, “you’re finally here.”

  


“I’m here,” Dan repeated, his voice a hushed murmur.

  


Phil pulled away and joined their hands. “So,” he started, smiling giddily and gesturing to the ferris wheel, “you wanna have a go?”

  


“The spinning circle of death?” Dan asked, never taking his eyes away from Phil’s, “Sure why not.”

  


Laughing, Phil ran off, practically dragging Dan towards the ride.

  


“Two tickets please,” Phil asked the cashier, squeezing Dan’s hand.

  


Dan got out his wallet to pay for his ticket but Phil thrust the money out to the girl behind the desk, picked up the two little pieces of paper and kept walking.

  


“Phil, wait, I have to pay you back for the ticket,” Dan protested.

  


Shaking his head, Phil grinned and kissed the back of Dan’s hand, making him blush. “I got this one,” he promised.

  


Dan rolled his eyes playfully as they got into a carriage.

  


“They told us not to sit on the same side, but oh well,” he shrugged, cuddling up beside Phil.

  


Curling an arm around Dan’s shoulders, Phil pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head, sighing contently.

  


“I still can’t believe you’re actually _here,”_ Phil murmured, wrapping both arms around Dan’s torso.

  


Dan tangled his hands in Phil’s hair and rested his chin on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it either,” he sighed happily.

  


Practically sitting in Phil’s lap, Dan pulled away from the embrace. Phil locked their eyes and he felt like the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. The evening light was catching in Dan’s brown hair and his smile - oh god _his smile._

  


Phil just wanted to stay in this moment forever. Them, Dan and Phil, in the small compartment, staring at each other in awe and the very _air_ they were breathing tasting like euphoria.

  


Dan’s gaze flickered down to his lips.

  


Phil softly pulled Dan towards him, letting his eyes flutter shut. He felt arms loop around his neck and soft lips collide with his own.

  


A warm body fell against him, Dan’s legs on either side of his and his fingertips playing gently with Phil’s hair.

  


The Kiss - for the event will forever be capitalised in Phil’s mind - was drawn-out and carefully soft, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth and a sort of… tender excitement was welling up inside him, filling his chest and making him want to hold Dan close and never let go.

  


Dan pulled away gently, his eyes still closed as he rested his forehead against Phil’s.

  


“I love you,” he whispered, “so, so much.”

  


Snaking his arms around Dan’s back, Phil pulled him closer. “I love you too,” he murmured.

  


Dan got off his lap and snuggled up against him. Phil placed an arm around his small frame, sighing contently.

  


Before they knew it, the ride was over.

  


Dan jumped in surprise as the door opened and Phil giggled slightly.

  


“Shut up,” Dan grumbled.

  


Phil pretended to think about it. “Hmm… nope,” he giggled, pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek and shuffling out of the carriage. 

  


_“Fucking fags,”_ the employee who opened the door whispered.

  


Before Phil could react - probably by glaring at him and confronting him very loudly - Dan patted him on the shoulder and replied;

  


“Yea, I love fucking fags too.”

  


Spluttering out a laugh, Phil grabbed Dan’s hand and ran off before the neanderthal could react.

  


“Come on,” he giggled, puffing, “I know a good cafe around here, if you’re hungry?”

  


“Starving,” Dan replied, “I had to get up at four in the fucking morning and I haven’t had anything to eat since.”

  


“Let’s go then!”

  


Phil didn’t actually know many cafes around here, as he rarely strayed very far from his university dorm, but at least there was _one_ he was aware of.

  


They entered the small coffee shop and quickly found a table.

  


“Hey, welcome to The Bakehouse,” the waitress greeted, “can I take your order?”

  


“A caramel macchiato,” they told her simultaneously, before looking at each other and giggling.

  


_“Two_ caramel macchiatos,” Phil rephrased, “and I’ll have a macaroon - Dan?”

  


“Just the coffee thanks.”

  


The waitress nodded, writing it down in her small pad before smiling at the pair and walking off.

  


Phil looked down and found Dan playing with the ends of his sleeves. A stab of helplessness struck him in the chest as he grabbed Dan’s hand, grimacing in the form of a smile.

  


Dan looked up in shock, but smiled tentatively back.

  


“If you had to give us a label,” Dan started, “what would you say we are? Or would I just introduce you to people by saying ‘Hi everyone, this is my Phil’?”

  


_My Phil_

  


The words resonated in his mind, making Phil smile widely.

  


“Well…” he began, playing with Dan’s fingers, “As long as you introduce me as yours, I can’t say I really mind.”

  


Dan blushed heavily and lowered his head onto the table. “Phil you smooth motherfucker,” he laughed.

  


Phil shrugged. “I try,” he replied casually.

  


A soft smile crept onto his face, the strange, gentle feeling still swelling inside his chest.

  


“Well,” he hummed, “I wouldn’t be opposed to boyfriend either.”

  


Dan lifted his head up, smiling. “I think that fits rather well,” he agreed.

  


Phil lifted his hand up and placed a kiss on the back of his palm, smiling as Dan’s cheeks flushed again.

  


“Are you literally trying to kill me?” Dan asked.

  


“Why on earth would I want to do that?” Phil queried innocently.

  


The younger boy glared at him. “Because you keep doing stuff like _that,”_ he responded.

  


“Stuff like _this?”_ Phil proposed, as he leant over and kissed him.

  


———

  


**Dan** felt like he was going to die.

  


Whether it be from the heat in his cheeks, or spontaneously combusting because _Phil kept kissing him like that,_ he hadn’t figured out yet.

  


As Phil broke the kiss and sat back down, Dan noticed the waitress coming out of the kitchen and coming towards them.

  


“Phil,” he whispered, nodding his head towards her and letting go of his hands.

  


She smiled, placing their drinks - and Phil’s abnormally large macaroon -on the table. “I just wanna say, you two are really adorable,” she told them hastily, before whirling around and walking back.

  


There was a few seconds of silence between them, before they both burst out laughing.

  


“Well, at least it was a compliment,” Dan smiled, internally cringing slightly at the fact that people were watching them.

  


“That’s true,” Phil agreed, taking a bite of his macaroon, “you want some?”

  


Dan stared at it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those before,” he replied casually.

  


“What?” Phil asked incredulously, “Never? - ok, you are taking this right now.”

  


He stared at the crumbling green biscuit in his hand for a few moments before tentatively taking a bite.

  


“It’s good,” he giggled, before giving it back to Phil.

  


“Exactly, everyone likes macaroons.”

  


“You’re a dork,” Dan drawled affectionately.

  


They stayed there for a while, chatting idly and sipping their rapidly cooling coffee.

  


Soon enough, the coffee was all gone and the bill was payed - _no, Phil, you said next time, and this is next time_ \- so Phil took Dan’s hand in his and started walking aimlessly through the streets.

  


“Do you know where we’re going?” Dan asked dubiously.

  


“Nope,” Phil replied nonchalantly.

  


“I should start getting home actually,” Dan murmured, staring at the time - _12:01 pm_ \- on his phone.

  


“When do you have to be back by?”

  


“Technically I still have about six hours,” Dan told him, “But mum probably meant three hours _before_ six.”

  


“That makes no sense,” Phil protested.

  


Dan shrugged. “My mum never does,” he agreed.

  


Phil pulled him closer. “What if I don’t want you to leave?” he whispered.

  


Blushing, Dan playfully shoved him away. _How could one person do this to me?_ he wondered.

  


“Because I’m amazing.”

  


Dan looked up at Phil in confusion before quickly averting his eyes in embarrassment.

  


“I said that out loud didn’t I?”

  


“Yep.”

  


“Great.”

  


Phil laughed. “No, it was cute,” he assured him.

  


They continued down the street, neither speaking. It was a companionable silence, both of them feeling perfectly at ease.

  


When they were about a block away from where Dan was staying, they stopped.

  


“Tomorrow is Friday… so I have one lecture at nine am, and another one at eleven thirty, but did you want to meet up afterwards?” Phil asked.

  


Dan nodded. “My mum is really lax with me going out and stuff - where will I meet you?” he agreed.

  


“Here?” Phil proposed.

  


“Sure,” he complied, before pressing a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek, winking at him then turning and walking back to the hotel.

  


_You’ve really got to stop the inappropriate winking you fucker,_ Dan scolded himself, _you probably looked like a constipated walrus!_

  


“Ah, Dan you’re back,” his mum greeted as he walked back into the room.

  


After he spent thirty minutes in the lobby waiting for her to text him the room number of course.

  


Dan rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, revelling in the few seconds of silent bliss before he heard Adrian come running to meet him.

  


“Hey Dan!” he exclaimed, “Can you help me practice?”

  


Sighing, he shook his head. “What makes you think I know the first thing about any field sports?”

  


“But it’s _discus_ and _shotput_ and things like that,” Adrian protested, “you can just… watch my form or something, I don’t know!”

  


“Adrian-”

  


“Would it kill you to help your brother once in a blue moon Daniel?” his mother interrupted icily from across the room, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her laptop.

  


“Yay!” Adrian yelled happily as he dragged Dan to the couch and made him sit down, “Ok, now watch me and tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.”

  


He started drawing his hand up to his chin, two finger resting beneath his jawline and he suddenly thrust outwards.

  


Dan had _no_ idea what he was doing.

  


“So how was that?” Adrian asked after repeating the gesture a couple more times.

  


“Umm… it was good,” Dan assured him, despite not knowing what the fuck he just witnessed, “very-uhm… discus-y?”

  


“That was _shotput, Dan!”_

  


“Right. I knew that.”

  


Adrian huffed and plonked himself down in the couch, turning the TV on. Dan shrugged and set out to find his bag.

  


“Mum!” he called after a whole five seconds of looking, “Where’d you put my bag?”

  


“In your room Daniel!” was the terse, raised-voice response he got back.

  


_Gee thanks, it’s not like we’re in a hotel and I have no idea which one’s my room or anything,_ he grumbled to himself, before turning out of the bedroom he was in and moving on to the next one. Strike two.

  


Must be this one, he thought as he walked into the last room and, sure enough, his bag was on the bed.

  


He immediately started rummaging in the pockets for his phone charger, before plugging it in and settling down on the bed.

  


_Hey, Chris and PJ want to meet you tomorrow-is that cool? - Phil_

  


_Dan smiled._

  


_Of course - Dan._

  


_Be prepared for The Speech - Phil_

  


_Should I be worried? - Dan_

  


_Be afraid. Be very afraid. - Phil_

  


_You dork - Dan_

  


_You love it - Phil_

  


_Nope, I love you - Dan_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** wasn’t worried.

  


He wasn’t. He’s not nervous either.

  


Whatever gave you that idea?

  


It’s not like the person he loves inexplicably is meeting his two best friends in the entire world. Phil knew they’d already talked, but talking over the phone, or on Skype is a world of difference from actually meeting them.

  


He should know - it definitely didn’t feel like he was about to explode when he was just _talking_ to Dan, but _holding_ him…

  


His phone buzzed, indicating that Dan was calling him.

  


“Hey you,” he answered.

  


“Hey, where are you?” was Dan’s response.

  


They had decided to meet at the Manchester eye, before catching a bus to the uni.

  


“I can see you,” Phil taunted, laughing as he saw Dan spin around frantically, trying to spot him.

  


“Well that makes one of us.”

  


Smirking, Phil started running towards Dan. “Keep facing that way… you’re close…” he instructed in the most level voice he could manage.

  


“I still don’t see you…” Dan pouted.

  


Phil playfully jumped on his back, laughing at the squeak his boyfriend emitted.

  


“I hate you,” Dan glared as he hung up.

  


“Your mum,” Phil retorted cheekily.

  


Dan rolled his eyes. “That was my line!” he protested, “You can’t steal my line.”

  


“I just did,” Phil smirked.

  


He slid off Dan’s back and took a hold of his hand. Together, they made their way to the bus stop, Phil laughing at Dan’s awe of the city.

  


Dan stepped on the bus and made his way to an empty seat, trailing their joined hands behind him. It was only a ten minute trip from the Manchester eye to his uni, but with Dan’s head on his shoulder and his arms holding the smaller boy close, it could have very well been years.

  


“Wow, it’s so _big!”_ Dan exclaimed, gaping the campus as they walked around, slowly moving towards Phil’s dorm.

  


“I know,” Phil agreed, “I swear I spent the first year being late to classes purely because I kept getting lost.”

  


“Not because you were hungover as fuck?” Dan asked cheekily, “Because I’ve certainly heard that was the case.”

  


Phil pouted. “That was _one_ time Dan, _one time!”_ He protested.

  


Dan stared at him dubiously.

  


“Ok, _maybe_ two times,” Phil relented, “three at most.”

  


“Uh-huh,” Dan drawled.

  


“You better not be expecting anything extravagant, like elephants or something,” Phil reminded Dan as he shoved the key in the lock, “because it’s literally a room. With moderate internet.”

  


“At least it’s got something going for it,” Dan teased.

  


He opened the door and stepped aside, leaving the smaller boy to enter the room.

  


“Well, what do you know,” Dan marvelled sarcastically, “it really is just a room.”

  


“Ha ha, very funny,” Phil retorted, closing the door behind them, but not locking it.

  


Grinning at him briefly, Dan turned around and sat on the floor. “You have so much _space,”_ he commented, before flopping down onto the white carpet, “like, what do you need this much space for?”

  


“Why do you need so much clutter in your room?” Phil retorted, before sitting down next to him.

  


“Touche.”

  


He stared at Dan happily, dazing in and out of his boyfriend’s idle chatter.

  


Phil’s phone buzzed, jerking him out of a mindless daydream.

  


_It’s literally a five min bus ride where the fuck are you? - Chris_

  


Laughing, he showed the text to Dan, who thought it would be funny to tell Chris that they’ve been there for the past half hour.

  


Which they did.

  


_I s2g Phillip, if I come in there and you’re naked someone’s gonna die - Chris_

  


_Also, please remember that your boy’s barely legal - Chris_

  


Phil’s cheeks flushed bright red.

  


“What?” Dan questioned him, “What’d he say?”

  


He handed the phone over.

  


Dan’s eyes quickly skimmed through the texts, and Phil gave a little chuckle as a blush crept up his boyfriend’s neck.

  


There was a knock at the door.

  


_“This is your first warning Philip!”_ Chris’ voice sounded, _“Ah fuck it, I’m coming in!”_

  


The door burst open dramatically, revealing Chris - who was covering his eyes - and PJ - who was giggling behind him.

  


“Hey PJ, hey dirty-minded loser,” Phil greeted the pair.

  


“Hey, it never hurts to be prepared,” Chris retorted, drawing his hands away from his eyes with a huff.

  


PJ closed the door behind them and joined him and Dan on the floor.

  


“Just because you two did it within twenty-four hours of PJ’s sixteenth, doesn’t mean we are,” Phil replied cheekily.

  


Chris and PJ’s eyes widened and Dan burst out laughing.

  


“Really? You- oh my god I didn’t need to know that,” he giggled.

  


“I don’t think Chris could sit down properly for a week,” Phil continued, laughing at his friend’s glowing red faces.

  


“it was not a _week,”_ PJ spluttered indignantly.

  


They all laughed at the expense of Chris and PJ for a bit longer, before Chris suddenly faced Dan, his face impassively blank.

  


“Hurt Phil, in any way,” he started, his voice low and threatening, “and I will kill you.”

  


Dan winced at the _kill you_ part, and Phil immediately grew worried - he knew that was probably a trigger for him.

  


“I’m not gonna hurt Phil, in any way,” Dan promised, throwing Chris a fake smile.

  


He moved closer to Dan and threaded their fingers together. Dan looked at him in surprise but then gave Phil a taught grin, because they both knew what was wrong, and they both could tell Dan wasn’t ok, but the contact seemed to make him more relaxed.

  


“Awwe, they’re _holding hands_ and _staring at each other… kinda strangely,”_ Chris cooed, making the four of them burst out laughing.

  


“So Dan,” PJ started, “serious stuff aside, tell us about yourself.”

  


Dan groaned and flopped back onto the floor. “That literally the one question I hate answering - y’know those ones where it’s like _‘describe yourself in three words?’_ Yea no, I can’t do that.”

  


PJ sniggered.

  


“Well what am I supposed to say?” continued Dan, “Describe myself in three words? I’d just say’ I am Dan’ and be done with it!”

  


“Very philosophical,” PJ nodded, knowing it would just frustrate him further.

  


Dan sat up, his back ramrod straight and he gave PJ the biggest bitch glare he could muster.

  


_“It’s not fucking philosophical it’s my name for god’s sake,”_ he hissed.

  


Laughing, Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s torso from behind and drew him in close. “He’s just teasing,” he giggled, “but, to be fair, it is pretty funny.”

  


“I’m glad my _immense frustration_ amuses you all,” Dan quipped back, failing to maintain a straight face.

  


Giving up, he smiled broadly and leant back against Phil, relishing in the feeling.

  


“All joking aside, there’s really not much to tell,” Dan told them, “I mean, I go to school, I come home, I sometimes do my homework, mostly go on Tumblr.”

  


“That’s not true!” Phil protested, resting his chin on Dan’s shoulder, “You play piano quite prettily.”

  


Dan hummed noncommittally and shrugged his shoulders.

  


Chris smiled at the pair. “PJ plays just about every instrument under the sun,” he puffed.

  


“Even the oboe?” Dan questioned cheekily, raising an eyebrow.

  


“Not the oboe, I’ll admit,” PJ laughed, “but that’s my next conquest.”

  


Chris groaned. _“Now_ look what you’ve done Dan,” he grumbled good-naturedly, “Babe, can it at least wait until _after_ university?”

  


PJ smiled and pecked Chris on the nose.

  


“So… that’s a maybe?”

  


Phil laughed - he felt like he was going to have abs by the time Dan had to go back.

  


———

  


**Dan** could honestly say that he’d laughed more during those two hours than the last two years.

  


They’d played video games - which Phil turned out to be shit at - and told funny anecdotes, they laughed and Chris and PJ told so many embarrassing stories about Phil when they were his age he felt like they had been sixteen for five years.

  


They had gotten up to _so much shit._

  


Chris had _stolen a tree out of someone’s garden while drunk._

  


_A fucking tree._

  


Dan poked his cheeks, sore from the seemingly permanent smile stuck on his face.

  


He couldn’t help it - he was just so _happy._

  


Reminiscing about something that happened not even twenty minutes ago was probably a sign that he needed a life.

  


Sighing, Dan turned over in his uncomfortable hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. His mum was probably gonna come in to tell him room service had arrived soon.

  


Sure enough, there was a knock at the door.

  


His mum walked in, but she looked nervous, skittish almost.

  


“Mum?” Dan asked worriedly, “Are you okay?”

  


“What?” she asked distractedly, “Yes, yes I’m fine… I, uh just came to tell you.. uhm dinner.. and stuff.”

  


With that, she walked out.

  


Dan laid down on the bed and closed his eyes for a few more seconds before walking out.

  


_Mum was acting weird…_

  


Shrugging the thought off - when was his mum not weird - he made his way into the lounge room-type-place.

  


“Mum got you pasta,” Adrian told him offhandedly from his place on the couch, eyes glued to the TV.

  


“Was she acting a bit… odd to you?” Dan asked, collecting his dinner and joining his brother.

  


“I dunno… I guess.”

  


Dan nodded slightly before turning his attention back to the screen. He had no care for sports, and he had no idea what was going on but it didn’t look like any of them were walking away from this injury-free.

  


“I don’t get how you can watch this,” he commented after a particularly nasty crash, his dinner half-gone.

  


Adrian shrugged. “It’s entertaining,” he replied. 

  


Rolling his eyes, Dan finished off the last of his pasta and put the bowl on the table.

  


“Have fun,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked into his own room, “I’m going to bed.”

  


Not even bothering to change out of his clothes, Dan lay down on the bed and allowed himself to think about all that had happened that day.

  


With closed eyes and a warm smile playing at his lips, he thought about Phil.

  


How Phil would squeak whenever anyone overtook him in Mario Kart, the victory dance he did when he didn’t come last, the little half-smile that quirked up the corner of his mouth…

  


Everything about Phil just made Dan want to wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

  


His thoughts were growing foggier and his breathing was getting slower.

  


Dan drifted off to sleep, his lips still drawn up in a soft smile.

  


-

  


_“Dan, wake up for god’s sake!”_

  


He jerked awake, eyes snapping open at his mum’s voice, loud and desperate.

  


“Mum?” he asked groggily, sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes.

  


“Oh good, you’re already dressed,” she mumbled as she came into his room, her movements erratic and shaky.

  


“Mum, what’s going on?”

  


“We’re leaving,” she told him.

  


Dan’s heart almost leapt out of his throat and his chest constricted. “Leaving?” he repeated, “Why?”

  


She stopped throwing Dan’s clothes into the suitcase. Eerily slowly, she turned to face him.

  


“It’s your father.”

  


A sliver of ice slipped down his back and dread settled in his stomach when she said those words. His voice faltered.

  


“F-father?” Dan asked softly, “Is he telling us to come home?”

  


She grabbed his shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes. “He’s angry, Daniel. _So, so angry,_ and I don’t know why, but we have to leave. _Now.”_

  


“I’ll-um.. I’ll get this one,” he gestured to his suitcase, “you do the other ones out there.”

  


She nodded and ran out.

  


As soon as she was gone, Dan took out his phone and called Phil.

  


“Hey,” he answered.

  


Dan let himself revel in the happy tone of Phil’s voice, before replying. “Phil, you have to listen to me,” he urged, “this is important.”

  


“Dan?” Phil asked worryingly, “Are you okay?”

  


Dan shook his head, tears licking at his eyes. “No, no I’m not okay Phil,” he choked, “but I don’t have much time.”

  


“Dan?” His voice was soft and laced with panic.

  


“Phil, it’s my dad.”

  


The line went silent.

  


“Mum says he’s angry, like really angry and we have to go back,” Dan told him.

  


“Now?!”

  


“Now,” he confirmed, “Phil listen to me - if you don’t hear from me in two days, don’t try to contact me or anything.”

  


“What? Why not?”

  


“Because I’ll probably be unconscious or dead or my arms’ll be broken or _something,”_ Dan finally let the tears drip out of his eyes, “he’s gonna make me show him, Phil and there’s nothing either of us can do.”

  


“Dan…” Phil took a shaky breath, “There must be…”

  


“Nothing!” Dan repeated, “But who knows - maybe it’s for the better, y’know? Maybe it’s just time to give up…”

  


“No. Dan don’t say stuff like-”

  


“I love you Phil,” Dan whispered, “goodbye.”

  


He curled up in a ball for a few seconds, allowing the aching sadness in his chest to take over before throwing all his clothes into the suitcase.

  


Dan kept wiping at his face, pawing at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

  


_I’m scared._

  


_Phil._

  


_I’m so scared._

  


He took in a deep breath. _No, I can’t do this now._

  


Dan glared at the wall, forcing his throat to stop choking up and bit his lip to stop tears from falling.

  


Keeping his face down, he wheeled the suitcase out into the hallway then sped into the bathroom to wash his face.

  


There were countless texts on his phone from Phil, even more missed calls. _I’m so, so sorry,_ he thought as he switched it off.

  


They got to the train station in a flurry of movement and barely contained desperation.

  


Three hours and forty minutes wasn’t _nearly_ long enough.

  


Dan sat in his seat, his foot tapping and his fingers tangling themselves together in nervousness, an ever-present knot of anxiety growing and twisting in his gut.

  


He started at the ceiling, remembering how excited he was before - how the journey had seemed like _years_ and the absolute _joy_ he had felt as soon as they arrived.

  


How were they back already?

  


Dan turned his phone on again to check the time.

  


_234 missed calls from (Phil)_

  


_46 voicemails from (Phil)_

  


_371 messages from (Phil)_

  


_109 missed calls from (unknown number)_

  


_89 missed calls from (unknown number)_

  


_12:46 am_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** felt like the world was ending.

  


Dan said _two days_ like there was ever going to be a chance, even though they both knew there wasn’t.

  


Someone had taken a sledgehammer to Phil’s chest, smashing through bone and muscle alike and it all hurt _so much_ but there was _nothing he could do to stop it._

  


His father was a monster. A monster who wouldn’t wait _two days_ to beat the life out of his son.

  


That’s what made it worse. The fact that Phil knew the supposed _if you don’t hear from me in two days_ was a definite _you won’t hear from me for a very long time._

  


There was a caving emptiness in the pit of his stomach, his lungs were clinging desperately to what little air they could and he was certain his heart was on fire.

  


_Maybe it’s just time to give up…_

  


Dan’s words swirled around in his head like a sombre mantra, his entire being urging him to _do something goddammit,_ but his feet wouldn’t move.

  


His feet wouldn’t move, his mind wouldn’t stop and _he just wanted Dan._

  


Phil felt like he was being torn apart at the seams - Dan had told him the kind of man his father is, what that horrible, vile excuse of a human being would do to him.

  


Forcing his frozen fingers to pick his phone up from where he’d dropped it on the bed.

  


_Calling (Dan)…_

  


**_I’m sorry, this device is not able to be contacted right now, please try again later or leave a message after the tone._ **

  


“No…” Phil whispered, pressing redial immediately, “No Dan _please…”_

  


**I’m sorry, this device is not able to be-**

  


End call, redial.

****  


**I’m sorry, this device-**

  


End call, redial.

  


**I’m sorry, this device-**

  


End call, throw the phone on the bed in anxious frustration.

  


Phil got up and paced. Back and forth and back and forth, his mind whirring, trying to think of possible ways he could get to Dan.

  


Any possible ways he could save him.

  


There was a knock at the door.

  


“Go away!” Phil yelled angrily at whoever it was - _he could not deal with this right now._

  


The door opened.

  


“Phil?” came Chris’ tentative voice.

  


“Chris… please,” Phil begged, his voice barely containing all the _hurt_ and _anger_ and _worry_ he was feeling.

  


“Are you okay?” he asked, “Stupid question, I know, but you gotta start with something.”

  


Phil either wanted _to be left the hell alone and let me handle this_ or _please don’t leave me by myself I don’t think I can handle this._

  


So he remained silent.

  


Slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal, Chris made his way across the room and drew Phil into an embrace.

  


Tears gathered in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks as he sobbed into Chris’ shoulder, his hands clutching the back of his shirt in a vice grip.

  


“Chris…” he whispered hoarsely, “He’s… and I can’t-I can’t… _Dan.”_

  


“What did Dan do?” he asked, worry both calming his voice and giving it a rough edge.

  


Phil held Chris tighter and told him about Dan’s father. Not the explicit details Dan had given him, but _he’s a repulsive human being and he’s done horrible things_ and most of all h _e’s angry and Dan’s gone back and he’s gonna die Chris you have to help me._

  


“Let’s try calling some more,” he suggested shakily, “until we think of something else.”

  


Phil laughed bitterly. “I’ve only tried that about a hundred times,” he lamented.

  


“Just until we think of something else,” Chris promised, “because I honestly have no idea what to do Phil, we can ask PJ when he gets back.”

  


Phil pulled away, nodding sombrely.

  


Slowly, they both made their way to the bed. Phil picked up his phone and slumped down to the ground, Chris following soon after.

  


“…What’s his number?”

  


Wordlessly, he showed him and Chris added the contact.

  


Phil stared at the number for a few seconds, a few stray tears falling down his face.

  


Call.

  


**_I’m sorry, this device is not able to be contacted right now, please try again later or leave a message after the tone._ **

  


Pause.

  


**_Beep._ **

  


“Hi-uhm-hi Dan,” Phil started, voice cracking and heart pounding painfully, “please.. Dan… I just… I want to-”

  


End call.

  


Phil leant his head back against the bed and closed his eyes.

  


A warm hand slipped into his own.

  


Glancing to his side, he saw that Chris also had his phone up to his ear, after exchanging tight-lipped smiles they both turned back to their devices.

  


Call.

  


**_I’m sorry, this device is not able to be contacted right now, please try again later or leave a message after the tone._ **

****  


**_Beep._ **

  


“I can’t… I can’t lose you Dan,” Phil whispered brokenly.

  


Hang up.

  


Call.

  


**_Beep._ **

  


_“Please.”_

  


———

  


**Dan** didn’t want to go inside.

  


The three of them were stood outside, as if silently daring each other to go in.

  


Adrian, who didn’t quite know what everyone was so upset about, took hold of a suitcase and pulled it up the front steps.

  


“Are you glued to the pavement or something?” he asked sarcastically, “Come on!”

  


Dan and his mum shared a desperate glance before trailing after the small boy.

  


Pulling out her keys, Dan’s mum took a deep breath before unlocking the front door and leading them inside.

  


The house was a mess.

  


Dan took one look at the liquor bottles strewn about the floor and gulped.

  


_If he’s that drunk, nothing about this is ending well for me._

  


His heart jerked painfully as he thought of the last conversation he had with Phil.

  


_At least I told him I loved him one last time._

  


With the smile of a condemned man, he walked up the stairs, but stopped once he got to the top.

  


The door was hanging wide open, and Dan’s room was in ruins - his piano was smashed, his laptop was in a pile in the corner, his books had all been ripped apart and everything else looked like it had been hit with a grenade.

  


Blinking rapidly, Dan propped his suitcase up against the wall and sat down on the bed.

  


He closed his eyes, revelling in the moment of silence before the inevitable.

  


“DANIEL JAMES HOWELL,” his dad roared from the first floor.

  


Eyes fluttering open, Dan got off the bed and made his way downstairs. He was greeted with the sight of his father, red in the face, drunk off his head and near-empty bottle in hand waiting for him.

  


Fear tingled down his spine as he put one foot in front of the other, descending down the staircase.

  


The moment his feet touched level ground, he found himself crumpling under a blow to his face.

  


Eyes stinging and cheek wet with blood, Dan slowly stood back up, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of him.

  


“What have you got to say for yourself?” he demanded.

  


“I’m sorry?” Dan answered - _what did he do now?_

  


“You’re DAMN RIGHT you’re SORRY,” he thundered, “why, you’re barely even a MAN - it’s been what? Five weeks? FIVE WEEKS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T LOCATED THIS FIONA OF YOURS.”

  


Ah. _That_. It hadn’t been five weeks, but that was irrelevant to his father.

  


“I’m-uh… I’m working on it,” he fumbled, rubbing his forearm agitatedly.

  


**“Bullshit.”**

  


“No, I am!” Dan tried again, “Do you know how many girls have the same name as her?”

  


“Daniel,”his voice was so low it rumbled in Dan’s ears, “you lie to me one more time and you _will_ regret it.”

  


Dan grasped around in his mind for something believable, but found nothing.

  


There was no way out of this one.

  


_Good_ , a part of him thought, _I’m sick of pretending. Fuck him._

  


“There IS no Fiona!” he yelled, “My soulmate is an amazing, beautiful _man_ named Philip Michael Lester and _I love him.”_

  


_If I’m going down,_ Dan thought, _I’m going down swinging._

  


Throughout Dan’s speech, his father’s face contorted into a terrifying scowl of rage, purple splotching his features and an almost inhuman growl was being emitted from his lips.

  


**“Show me,”** he demanded, spitting the words out like poison, **“SHOW ME.”**

  


Shaking, Dan lifted up his right sleeve and thrust his forearm upwards.

  


Thick hands grabbed Dan’s limb and roughly pulled him closer.

  


**“You fucking faggot,”** he whispered menacingly, and Dan felt his blood run cold.

  


**“Come look at this Janet!”** he called in mock glee, **“Our son’s a fucking faggot who _cuts himself.”_**

  


Dan’s mum walked into the room, hands covering her mouth and tears welling in her eyes as she stared at Dan’s exposed scars.

  


**“Ooh, let’s see what’s on the other arm, shall we?** ” his father laughed, shoving his left sleeve up as Dan let out a cry of protest.

  


“Would ya look at that, **even more!”** he exclaimed, “It truly is a _pity_ that you couldn’t _finish the job.”_

  


A tear fell from Dan’s eye. No matter how shitty he was, no matter how bad he knew his dad would react, he never expected anything like _this_.

  


His own father _telling him to kill himself._

  


“Awe look, the little fag’s crying!”

  


“Mum?” Adrian asked, drawing everyone’s attention, “What’s a faggot?”

  


“It’s nothing, dear,” his mother promised, trying to shoo him away from the scene, “just a bad word.”

  


“Oh, it’s not just a bad word, son,” his dad told him, a glint in his beady eyes and bending Dan’s arm the wrong way, “It’s a _bad thing to be,_ it’s _disgusting_ and I’m just glad you’re nothing like your fairy of a brother.”

  


Adrian stared at Dan’s pained face.

  


“Fairy…?” he repeated, inching out of the room.

  


Their father nodded and turned back to Dan, scowling and bending the sixteen year old’s arms behind his back, sweaty palms pressed against the still-healing forearm.

  


He pushed Dan up the stairs and into his bombsite of a room.

  


“Why did you do this to me Daniel?” the man asked, sighing dramatically as he shoved Dan onto the ground.

  


Dan didn’t say anything, his blood pumping too fast to move, his brain frozen with fear and his body tensed in anticipation.

  


“You… **_disgust_** me,” he whispered, low and hardbut clear as day, “I can’t believe I ever considered you _my son.”_

  


Dan shuffled back frantically as he started advancing, heavy boots thumping with every step.

  


“That black shit on your wrist? That’s fake,” he continued, every word like a crushing blow, “and those hideous scars only prove my point. You do know you’ll never _really_ be happy, right?”

  


That struck a nerve.

  


Dan’s face went gaunt and his father smirked. “Yes, people like you _can’t_ be _happy_ , but, stupidly enough, you’re too much of a _cowardly piece of shit_ to _do anything about it,”_ his voice sent shivers down Dan’s spine and set his teeth on edge.

  


The first blow came hard and fast.

  


Pain blossomed in his side where the heavy boot had kicked him.

  


“You’re nothing but a.”

  


Kick to the side.

  


“Fucking.”

  


Kick to the leg.

  


“Depressed.”

  


Shoulder.

  


_“Faggot.”_

  


Stomach.

  


His father knelt down, smirking victoriously. “…And that’s all you ever will be. To anyone,” he rasped, “even your little Philip.”

  


Dan was curled in on himself, hugging his stomach and groaning in pain.

  


“Oh, don’t worry Daniel,” the man crooned, “we’re just getting _started…”_

  


With that, he attacked Dan furiously, never giving him a chance to catch his breath or avoid a punch.

  


_Everything hurts,_ was one of the only conscious thoughts he could form, his eyes empty of tears and his throat was sore and raspy from crying, yelling, screaming at the monster descending upon him.

  


_Phil._

  


_I’m scared._

  


_Phil._

  


_I don’t want to die._

  


_———_

  


**Phil** was at a loss.

  


PJ had found them about an hour into it, and started calling as well.

  


“Ok, I think we can sufficiently say that he’s not seeing these any time soon,” PJ sighed.

  


Phil nodded glumly, staring at his phone forlornly.

  


“You don’t know where he lives do you?” Chris asked hopefully.

  


Phil shook his head.

  


“Didn’t think so…”

  


Helplessness hung over the group like their own personal rain cloud, and an unspoken fear echoed between them:

  


_There’s nothing we can do to help Dan._

  


It was _killing_ Phil just to think about it.

  


He missed Dan like it was a physical ache, like his heart was about to explode inside his chest, and there was _nothing he could do about it._

  


“Alright, I don’t care what anybody says,” PJ muttered, standing up and walking towards the door, “we are taking the ice cream from the freezer. When I get back we can try and think of some other ways.”

  


———

  


**Dan** couldn’t breathe.

  


He was stuck in his small chaos of a room with his face to the ground and his limbs burning like someone had set fire to his bones.

  


The last thing he had eaten was the dry biscuit at the Manchester train station.

  


_Ouch._

  


His heart clenched just _thinking_ of that time.

  


Achingly slowly, Dan put his hands under him and tried to push himself up. His muscles, quivering with effort, gave out under him before he was even ten centimetres off the ground.

  


Body smashing painfully on the ground, tears licked at Dan’s eyes. Everything hurt and all hope had rushed out of his being the moment his father saw his tattoo.

  


_You know you deserve it._

  


The thought burned white-hot in his mind, searing behind his eyes and settling uncomfortably in his abdomen.

  


_Deep down you always knew this would happen._

  


Tears dripped down onto the hardwood floor, and the sound of Dan’s cries echoed around the distraught room.

  


_Because you, Dan, are w o r t h l e s s ._

  


But Phil said-

  


_Phil is WRONG!_

  


That resonated down to Dan’s core. _No,_ he tried to contradict, _Phil loves me-_

  


_Phil doesn’t love you._

  


A whimper fell from Dan’s lips as he flinched and curled in on himself, his muscles aching at the small movement.

  


_How could he love_ **_you?_ **

  


Dan didn’t know… why _did_ Phil love him? There weren’t any reason for him to, and every reason for him _not_ to.

  


_Soulmates don’t always fall in love, you know that._

  


He did. He had spent many late nights, wide-eyed with horror, reading articles about people who loved their soulmates but were not loved in return.

  


_Phil doesn’t love you._

  


Phil doesn’t love me.

  


_He’s probably laughing at you right now, giggling away with his best friends about the stupid sixteen year old who fell for him._

  


_———_

  


**Phil** was not laughing.

  


He was, in fact, growing more frantic with worry as the seconds passed.

  


There was a deep sadness that resonated within his very core and he knew, without a doubt, that it was Dan’s.

  


His arm was burning like he had been punched by a two-ton man made from iron and his entire being was buzzing, like it was telling him to _move,_ to _get up and run to him._

  


But he couldn’t.

  


Phil couldn’t do _anything._

  


_And it was killing him._

  


_———_

  


**Dan** was shivering, but he wasn’t cold.

  


He was terrified.

  


_Phil doesn’t love you, Phil doesn’t love you!_

  


The thought ran around his head, taunting him from the very corners of his mind.

  


_Except that he does._

  


Now Dan was confused. _No he doesn’t,_ he thought back.

  


_Then why would he spend hours Skyping with you?_

  


Dan didn’t know.

  


_Why did he look so very happy when you saw each other for the first time?_

  


_Dan didn’t know._

  


_Hey! So my name is Phil Lester and I’m kind of hoping yours is Daniel James Howell bc if it isn’t this just got really awkward (also hi person-called-Daniel-but-not-the-one-I’m-looking-for)._

  


_“To be honest, I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love so quickly.”_

  


_“I still can’t believe you’re actually here.”_

  


A small, shy smile tentatively grew on Dan’s lips.

  


Then the door opened.

  


“Hey there _fucker,”_ his dad greeted, crouching down, and Dan inched his head around to glare at him, “how’s it going?”

  


Dan made a low, guttural noise that hurt his throat.

  


The man smiled. “Nothing to say? Ooh, I guess the bruises don’t help much do they?” he chuckled, gesturing at the purple swelling dotted around his broken form..

  


Once again, Dan braced his hands underneath his chest and tried to push upwards, but collapsed.

  


“Careful,” his father interjected mockingly, “you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

  


“Go… fuck… yourself,” Dan gritted out.

  


He only realised his mistake when the red face of the heavyweight man in front of him morphed into a furious scowl.

  


“You better watch your mouth you little _shit,”_ he growled out.

  


Dan just glared back defiantly.

  


His father grabbed his arms roughly, making him wince, and shoved him over. Straddling the skinny teenager, he began hitting Dan’s face.

  


_Over_ and _over_ and _over_ again, his face was thrown to each side as a harsh blow decorated his cheek with another red streak, or another discoloured blemish.

  


It _never seemed to end._

  


He walked out again, and Dan felt his tensed body relax in relief, his face was throbbing and his tears had long since dried on his cheeks.

  


Dan lay there, staring at the ceiling, body aching down to his very core, but it was nothing compared to the longing.

  


The sadness nestled deep within his chest, the feeling of get _the fuck up and run to him,_ and, probably worst of all, how his heart clenched and twisted painfully under his chest, like someone was twisting a knife deep inside him.

  


A dry sob escaping his throat. Dan regretted everything he told Phil on the phone. He didn’t want the last thing he told his soulmate was _‘sorry but I’m going to die and there’s nothing you can do about it.’_

  


_He didn’t want to die._

  


He just wanted to be with Phil, maybe cuddling together as a movie played, or holding hands as they walked down the street.

  


Dan just wanted _Phil._

  


His head was spinning. Dan hadn’t had anything to eat in the last two days and he was getting delirious.

  


There was a tentative pitter-patter of feet climbing up the staircase. The door slowly creaked open and an uncertain shiver of fear crawled down Dan’s spine.

  


Adrian popped his head around the door and gasped at his brother’s discoloured skin and sad smile.

  


“Dan!” he exclaimed softly, running over to him, “Are you okay?”

  


“What does it look like?” Dan coughed.

  


Adrian glared at him dubiously before pulling a bread roll out of his pocket. “I brought you this… can you… can you eat it?” he asked, his voice wavering.

  


Despite his injuries, Dan’s arm shot out and grabbed the roll quickly, scoffing it down.

  


“Thank you,” he gasped out.

  


Adrian’s eyes flickered to his forearm, to the words _Philip Michael Lester_ written in adorably hasty scrawl.

  


“That was him wasn’t it?” it wasn’t a question, “The Phil you were skyping with.”

  


“Yea, that was him.”

  


“Ew he’s like, twenty-five,” Adrian giggled teasingly.

  


Dan opened his mouth in mock-anger. “He’s only twenty you know!” he protested, before coughing and curling in on himself slightly.

  


“Dan…” Adrian whimpered, “We _have_ to get out of here - he’s drunk _all the time_ and he’s started hitting mum to and I don’t know what to do.”

  


Sympathy thrummed through Dan, and he raised a shaking hand to cover his little brother’s.

  


“I’ll tell you what you can do,” Dan told him, a plan forming in his mind, “you can go downstairs and get my phone, then text Phil our address.”

  


“Is Phil going to save us?” he asked in a small voice, staring at their joined hands like it was the only thing keeping him together.

  


“Phil’s going to save us.”

  


———

  


**Phil** wasn’t focused on the movie.

  


How could he be?

  


It had been two days since he heard Dan’s voice, his arm was throbbing something horrible and the emptiness in his chest was worse.

  


Chris and PJ shared a desperate look, the movie ignored.

  


_Ding!_

  


Phil’s heart leapt up into his throat at the sound. He scrambled to his phone and checked who the text was from.

  


_1 new message from (Dan)_

  


Relief tore a cry from his throat and shook his hands as he went into his texts.

  


_Hi Phil, I’m Adrian (Dan’s brother, remember) and Dan told me to tell you our address so you can come save us - 44 Belmont St._

  


Phil sunk to the floor, the adrenalin that had been coursing through his veins for the past two days finally running thin.

  


_Thank you Adrian, thank you so much - how is Dan?_

  


As soon as he asked the question, Phil kind of regretted it.

  


He felt sick, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

  


_Not good. He can’t move._

  


“What is it?” PJ asked urgently, “Is it Dan?”

  


Phil nodded, the words stuck in his throat. “It’s Dan,” he choked out.

  


They rushed over to him and looked at the texts over his shoulder.

  


“That’s not good,” Chris whispered.

  


A solemn silence had fallen over the group. Chris gently pried the device out of Phil’s frozen hands, texting Adrian back.

  


_We’ll be right there._

  


“Alright,” he piped up, “If you can pack a bag in five minutes, do that but let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  


That shocked Phil to his senses, standing up and rushing around - grabbing his phone, his wallet and putting his socks and shoes on.

  


They were out the door in a flurry of movement, Chris and PJ continually reminding Phil that the next train for Wokingham leaves in an _hour_ and _fucking hell Phil stop bouncing around, yes the bus is going as fast as it can, no you can’t make time go faster any more than I can make the sun shine out of PJ’s ass._

  


Phil stared out the window impatiently, the bright lights of the city in the darkness reflecting on his face as they passed various luminous signs and advertisements.

  


His heart was racing and he couldn’t keep his fingers still.

  


_Hold on Dan, please…_

  


_Just hold on._

  


_———_

  


**Dan** had a new heaviness in his heart.

  


It wasn’t the sadness he had become accustomed to, or the burning pain of being near his father, or even the throbbing longing of being too far away from Phil.

  


No, this was determination, because he was _not_ going to spend much more time here, this was defiance, at _his father_ , at the _world_ , it was _relief_ because _Phil_ and _panic_ because his _dad_ …

  


It was everything that was preventing him from hobbling over to the window and throwing himself out of it.

  


_Thump._

  


Dan’s blood ran cold - someone was walking up the staircase.

  


_Thump._

  


Wait.

  


That sounded like _two_ people.

  


His heart rate rose, his breath quickened, and everything seemed like it was standing still, then-

  


_“Dan, can you hear me?”_

  


Adrian.

  


Dan let out a sigh of relief and called out in confirmation.

  


_“Ok, me and mum are gonna sit on the steps so you can hear us as well.”_

  


Panic alarms set off in Dan’s mind - he wasn’t ready to face his mother about everything he had been hiding from her for the past… well… _forever_.

  


_“…Daniel?”_ Came her hesitant voice from behind the door.

  


“Ye… yea mum,” he choked out, his voice raspy from the lack of water.

  


There was the sound of fingernails against the wood of the door, softly dragging them down as if trying to reach him.

  


_“It’s funny…”_ she started, her voice cracking, _“Now that I’m here, I have no idea what I want to say…”_

  


Dan was silent, then he propped himself up on his elbows and dragged his bruised form to lean up against the door.

  


“Then let me start,” he told her, “I can start by apologising… I guess.”

  


_“No,”_ she contradicted immediately, _“no you have nothing to be sorry for…”_

  


They were both silent for a while, Dan resting his head against the door and relishing in the feeling of being in reaching distance from them.

  


_“Dan,”_ came Adrian’s curious voice, _“what’s Phil like?”_

  


Dan coughed awkwardly. “He’s nice,” was all he could manage, not wanting to gush about his _very male_ soulmate in front of his mum.

  


_“Daniel,”_ she practically whispered, _“I… uhm, I just want you to know that I love you, no matter whose name it is.”_

  


Dan didn’t know what happened, but hearing those words, hearing _those words_ from _her_ , made his eyes well up and a smile tentatively play at his lips.

  


“Th-uh-thanks, mum.”

  


_“It might take me a while to… get used to it,”_ she continued haltingly, _“but one day I’m sure.”_

  


_“You know, I’ve seen Phil,”_ Adrian piped up, _“I came in and they were Skyping.”_

  


Dan’s cheeks flushed red. Of all the things to tell her - _you have no tact you lil shit._

  


He was expecting some kind of an awkward silence, punctuated by even more awkward coughing and _umm_ ing and _err_ ing, but that didn’t happen.

  


Dan’s mum just laughed. It was slightly forced, but it made Dan’s heart swell and his cracked lips quirk into an embarrassed smile.

  


_“Oh did you?”_ she asked, _“Daniel, how long have you been talking to this.. this Phil?”_

  


“Not long,” he promised.

  


_“Daniel.”_

  


“He um… he found my Tumblr like the day after I got the tattoo… I think,” Dan rushed out.

  


She was silent, and Dan was afraid he had said something wrong.

  


_“What’s Tumblr?”_

  


He let out a breezy laugh, then wined at the strain the simple movement had put on his ribs. “Tumblr’s a social media site… type… thing,” he explained helpfully.

  


_“Adrian, would you mind… uh… would you mind if I talked to Dan for a sec please?”_ she asked and Dan had a sinking feeling in his stomach, _“why don’t you go hide in your room, or in the closet? Make sure he doesn’t wake up?”_

  


Dan assumed Adrian nodded, because he heard the quiet footsteps getter further and further away.

  


_“Can we talk about it now?”_ she started, her voice wavering.

  


“T-talk about what?”

  


He was just stalling, they both knew that but Dan didn’t care because if they talked about it he was definitely just going to break down and _oh god I’m so, so sorry._

  


“…Your wrists,” she sighed.

  


“What do you want to know?” he replied solemnly, his voice whisper-soft. The tension in the air was palpable and humid, it seemed like everything Dan ever knew, everything he had taught himself never to speak of and keep secret was about to come spilling out for the second time.

  


He didn’t know how to feel about that.

  


Telling Phil was good. Telling Phil was like a source of comfort, something that had felt _right_ , a way to keep the bottled-up feelings from spilling over the edge… But telling his mum would be like forcing years and years of guilt to come crashing down upon both of them, leaving her questioning all the things she never noticed and him questioning why he had told her.

  


_“When did you start?”_

  


He was thirteen.

  


That day had been a particularly bad day - the bullies were worse than usual, his dad had more to drink than usual, people seemed to _hate_ him more than usual.

  


He sunk to the ground, head resting against his bed and hands thrust into his hair.

  


_Everything is going to shit and there’s nothing I can do about it,_ he thought.

  


Dan lifted the hem of his shirt and stared at the discoloured skin, fingertips ghosting over puckered flesh.

  


Tears leaked out of his eyes and an aching sadness settled itself in his abdomen.

  


_Why do I even bother?_

  


Dan didn’t know, _he didn’t know._

  


_Nothing would change if I died._

  


Nothing would change.

  


Those three words resonated in Dan’s mind, looping _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again, like a horrible mantra.

  


Nothing would change, nothing whatsoever would happen if his tiny little life was erased from existence. Nobody would mourn, nobody would question it, nobody would even _flinch._

  


If nobody would care, and nothing would change, then what was Dan even doing here, what was he even _alive_ for?

  


He was filled with a gaping emptiness, a shell-shocked numbness and he didn’t know what to do.

  


Dan was filled with this horrible, bland self-loathing.

  


_Nobody would miss you…_ something crooned deep within his mind.

  


Well, _that_ was a given - everybody Dan knew hated him.

  


_Then what’s stopping you from trying?_

  


His eyes widened at the implication.

  


Dan wasn’t stupid, despite popular belief. He knew what _suicide_ was. He knew that if you cut open a vein, or if you took too many pain meds, or if you jumped off a bridge you would die.

  


That’s it. Game over.

  


He knew what it was, but never had it sounded so _appealing_ before.

  


So he went into the bathroom, and, guided by the crooning voices, picked up a pair of scissors. Dan rested the blade on his wrist and lightly dragged it over the smooth flesh.

  


He winced as the harsh blade nipped his skin, barely scratching him.

  


_Maybe if I do it quickly, it won’t hurt as much,_ he thought, and pressed the blade deeper into his flesh, before taking in a deep breath and… _pull!_

  


The cool metal bit into his skin, but it wasn’t hard enough to draw blood. Tears fell out of Dan’s eyes as he desperately dragged the blade across the same line, frantically pressing down on his flesh until a flash of red appeared, marring the soft white of his skin.

  


“When I was thirteen…” he replied finally, his voice oddly calm, “Yea, that was a bad day.”

  


_“What happened?”_

  


“I don’t know,” _that was a lie,_ “I guess something inside me clicked and I thought it would make me feel better…”

  


_“Oh Dan…”_ his mother whispered through the door, heartbreakingly soft, _“I’m so, so sorry you felt like that.”_

  


Dan shrugged, not knowing what to say.

  


_“Did you-”_ she faltered, _“Did you tell anyone else?”_

  


“I told Phil, not long after ‘met’ him, I guess,” Dan told her curtly, he hated talking about this, he hated making her feel like this and everything sucked because there was nothing either of them could do.

  


They were both just sitting there, backs pressed against the wall, heavy hearts and downcast faces.

  


Slowly, Dan told her small portions of his life over the past three years. Not everything, he would get there eventually - maybe - but enough for her to realise why he was like this, enough for her to realise _it wasn’t her fault for not noticing what he was hiding._

  


They had been sitting there for a long time, a heavy, companionable silence drifting between them when Dan heard flurried footsteps run up the stairs.

  


_“He’s awake.”_

  


_———_

  


**Phil** was out of breath.

  


Which was stupid, considering he was on a train. He wasn’t moving.

  


He was out of breath because _literally anything_ could be happening to Dan right now and Phil was _still on the train._

  


He quickly brushed away a stray tear that ran down his face.

  


_Maybe it’s time,_ Dan had said, voice cracking and sadness choking his words. Nothing had ever made Phil feel like dying more than when the person he loved whispered that down the crackling phone line, rushed and sobbing and _pleading_ all at the same time.

  


The cool glass of the window pressed against Phil’s face and he stared blankly out at the smothering darkness in front of him.

  


_Hey Philip, I really don’t know why that happened - maybe because I only turned 16 today?_

  


A short giggle escaped his mouth as he remembered their first messages. Dan had told him all the stress writing that response. _Lolzor…_

  


_Dan Howell: is that the only reason you wanted to talk to me on this? the emojis?_

  


_“It’s not posh, I just know how to enunciate my words.”_

  


_“We fell asleep, the year is now 2022.”_

  


_“Thank you.”_

  


Phil closed his eyes and thought of the amazing, beautiful, _strong_ boy he had fallen in love with.

  


His phone buzzed.

  


Surprised, Phil’s eyes snapped open and he pried the device out of his tight pockets.

  


_(Dan) calling…_

  


A rush of emotions coursed through him and fresh tears filled his eyes.

  


“Hello?” he answered cautiously.

  


_“Phil…”_ was the sigh on the other end.

  


“Dan!” he exclaimed, the tears spilling over in relief, “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice.”

  


_“I can guess,”_ he spluttered out a laugh, _“I don’t have much time, Adrian slipped the phone under the door.”_

  


“Smart.”

  


_“Yea, Phil, I just need you to know… I am so, so sorry for what I said before,”_ Dan choked.

  


“Dan, it’s fine, I promise, just hold on for a couple more hours, okay?” Phil told him.

  


_“Okay,”_ Dan repeated in a small voice.

  


_“Dan, quick, mum’s not gonna be able to distract him for much longer!”_

  


The smile fell off Phil’s face. “You mean he’s…” he trailed off.

  


_“Gonna beat me up?”_ Dan continued, _“Yea, I better go before he breaks my phone as well.”_

  


“… Okay.”

  


_“I love you,”_ Dan whispered hastily.

  


“I love you too,” Phil responded, but the line had already gone dead.

  


He sighed and glanced at Chris and PJ in the seats next to him, curled up against each other sleeping with perfectly serene smiles on their faces. A brief flash of envy ran through him, but it soon ebbed away to a caving sadness.

  


_And so, the countdown begins again._

  


Phil checked the time on his phone and smiled wistfully - the last time he was counting down the hours, it was until he could hold Dan in his arms for the first time.

  


Now it was so he could save the very same person from dying. So there would be another chance to hold him in his arms, to kiss him and pull him close, to have six-hour Skype calls and whispered _I love you’s._

  


So there would be another chance to fall for him every single day.

  


_Three hours, fifteen minutes to go…_

  


_———_

  


**Dan** felt like he was about to die.

  


He had felt like this only once before, and it was horrible as he remembered.

  


His father slammed the door behind him, making Dan squeeze his eyes shut tight at the sound.

  


It was like a gun.

  


Oh, how Dan _wished_ he had a gun right now. _Anything_ to stop the excruciating pain throbbing through his very being. His nerves were on fire and his fingertips were slick with blood as they ghosted over the black and blue lumps on his body, the slight nicks decorating his flesh.

  


He couldn’t see out of one eye and all he wanted was for everything to just _please, please stop hurting._

  


_Please…_

  


Dan was lying there, hunched up in the corner of his room like he had been offhandedly thrown against the wall, eyes scrunched up tight and mouth curled into a grimace.

  


_Phil…_ he thought desperately, a welcomed darkness seeping in at the corners of coherent thought, _help me…_

  


-

  


When he woke up, Dan was in a brief trance where nothing hurt and everything was okay, he was still living in the euphoric daydream of being within walking distance of Phil.

  


Then everything came crashing down around him.

  


The fire in his bones roared back to life, the festering state of his and the memories of the past couple of days stung like barbed wire cutting into his mind.

  


Dan’s didn’t know how much time had passed since he had talked to Phil - seconds, hours, _days?_ \- he didn’t know how long he had been lying here, in this empty room full of dense air and broken furniture.

  


With each breath, Dan felt like his lungs were about to collapse. His tongue was dry and parched and his stomach was growling. He might not know how long he had been locked up, but he did know that he was so _thirsty._

  


There was a pain in his heart that had been there ever since he had gotten off the phone with Phil all the way back in Manchester… Dan smiled bitterly - all that seemed like so long ago, he had almost forgotten the elation of holding Phil in his arms for the first time.

  


There was a knock at the door.

  


Dan’s body tensed instinctively, but he forced himself to relax - his father was not the sort to knock.

  


_“Dan, it’s me,”_ his mother whispered frantically.

  


“Mum?” he croaked, his voice harsh and scraping against his throat.

  


_“Yes,”_ she affirmed, _“you haven’t got much time.”_

  


“What… what do you mean?” Dan struggled out.

  


_“He’s taking you to get your tattoo removed tonight.”_

  


The air rushed out of Dan’s lungs and his eyes widened. “Tonight?” he breathed out in shock.

  


_“Tonight,”_ she confirmed grimly, _“so you need to escape or… or something!”_

  


“I can’t even move,” he contradicted shakily.

  


_“I am not letting that bastard do this to you Daniel,”_ his mum growled through the door.

  


Dan was surprised. “Mum, he’s your _soulmate,”_ he protested weakly, wondering what moved her to use such crass language against him.

  


_“Not… not anymore…”_ she choked, _“His name is fading.”_

  


Sucking in a sharp breath, Dan tried to get closer to the door, closer to her, but found he couldn’t move his left arm more than a couple of centimetres. _Probably broken,_ he thought, grimacing at the searing pain shooting up the limb.

  


“His name is fading?” he repeated, teeth gritting together.

  


_“I don’t know about my name,”_ she continued, _“but yes, his name is practically gone from my stomach.”_

  


Dan had never known anyone’s name to fade… but he was glad. Glad that his mother could actually escape from that horrible excuse for a man, rather than have a bind with him for all eternity.

  


_“But it’s beside the point Daniel,”_ she brushed off, _“You’re about to go to one of those heinous places that remove soulmate tattoos unless we find a way to remove either you or him from the equation.”_

  


Dan was at a loss.

  


_“I have to go,”_ she whispered, _“but I’ll try and distract him as long as possible.”_

  


When he didn’t reply, she walked down the stairs.

  


_Getting his soulmate tattoo removed?_ Dan didn’t even want to think about it. The whirlwind of emotions he was feeling before had suddenly rushed out of him, leaving a shocked numbness.

  


What would happen if it was gone? Would Phil stop loving him?

  


_Did he ever start?_ Something hissed in the back of his mind.

  


Of course he did, Dan contradicted, he knew that. Phil _loved_ him.

  


_Ah, but what if the tattoo was gone? What if the source for his love was gone?_

  


But… Phil loved him for him right? No matter what was on his arm.

  


_Your mother stopped loving your father, and look at her tattoo,_ they persisted gently.

  


A cold shiver ran down Dan’s spine. His mother _had_ stopped loving his father. Granted, his father was an absolutely _deplorable_ human being…

  


_…But her tattoo still faded,_ the voices finished.

  


Dan felt his breath getting quicker, each sharp intake of breath sending pain shooting through his chest.

  


_Phil’s gonna stop loving you~_ the voices laughed mockingly.

  


Now he was terrified. He didn’t know what he would do if Phil just _stopped loving him…_ Dan’s mind was racing, his thoughts flurried around in in his head like a snowglobe, each one worse than the other.

  


_What if Phil never loved him? What if he never spoke to Dan again? What if his father made him marry some other girl, like he had feared? What if he never saw Phil again? What if what if what if what if…_

  


It never seemed to end.

  


He was trembling now, his thoughts pressing him further and further into a corner that he couldn’t drag himself out of. Tears ran down his cheeks and his shaky breathing grew laboured

  


Dan heard the pitter-patter of feet coming up the stairs, somewhat breaking the panicked trance the voices had placed over him like a blanket.

  


_“I’m gonna slide the phone underneath the door,”_ came Adrian’s voice. There was a brief silence then, sure enough, Dan’s phone came sliding in under the crack and came to a stop not far from Dan’s fingers.

  


Still trembling, he inched his right arm across the floor and towards the device. Once he held it in his grasp, Dan brought it up to his eye level so he could see why Adrian gave it to him.

  


_1 new message from (Phil)_

  


_Dan I’m about ten minutes away from the station._

  


He smiled slightly and let his arm drop down, terrifying darkness creeping at the edge of his vision once again - _Phil was coming…_

  


_But he doesn’t love you_

  


He does he does he does..

  


_He won’t soon_

  


———

  


**Phil** was nervous.

  


There was still a blistering pain in his upper arm and he knew it wasn’t his own.

  


He had a right to be anxious, after all - he, along with Chris and PJ, were about to barge into his boyfriend’s house, somehow defeat Dan’s father, rescue Dan and get the fudge out of there.

  


It was like a boss level in Mario.

  


Phil snorted at the thought - _that means Dan is Princess Peach._

  


_I’m so calling Dan Princess Peach if we get out of all this._

  


“When,” Phil corrected himself softly, _“when_ we get out of this.”

  


The train slowed to a stop.

  


Phil glanced at PJ worryingly. “Are you ready?” he asked the pair of them, “I mean, you know you don’t have to do this, it’s pretty scary and I still have no idea what to do once we get there and-”

  


“Phil,” Chris cut him off, “we’re coming.”

  


Phil smiled and nodded gratefully as they made their way onto the train station.

  


_Next step is to find a cab,_ he thought as he went through his barely-thought-out plan. It kind of just went along the lines of _get cab, go to Dan’s, save Dan, live happily ever after._

  


Well, Phil could only hope it would be that simple.

  


The reality of the situation was messier than that, but a simple plan leaves more room for improvisation, which was good because Phil honestly didn’t know what they were running head-first into.

  


He knew Dan was in trouble, he knew that he wanted to get the boy as far away from that horrible man as possible - if they had to move to Japan, so be it - and he knew that _Dan couldn’t move._

  


PJ hailed down a cab and they all clambered in. Chris read the address off Phil’s phone and they were on their way.

  


Phil kept knotting his fingers together with worry and anticipation, or he would look out the window and try to name everything he could see in the darkness - _anything_ to distract him from the car ride that seemed to be _so very long._

  


“44 Belmont St,” the cabbie announced as she pulled to a stop, “have a nice night fellas.”

  


Phil hastily gave her the money, muttering “Keep the change,” as the trio located Dan’s house.

  


“Alright well, there’s no going back now,” Chris exclaimed, “but it’s cool right? I had like, two karate lessons when I was eight, we’ve got no problem.”

  


“I think I might’ve whacked someone with a paintbrush in primary school,” Phil joined in, half smiling as they stood stock-still on the pavement across from the house all of them were silently daring the other go up to.

  


“Gosh, you two are violent,” PJ added, “I wish you had told me of your endeavours in martial arts mastery and paintbrush-whacking _before_ we became friends.”

  


A small giggle fell from Chris’ lips. “After eleventy billion years, the truth finally comes out,” he breathed out.

  


“Eleventy’s not a word,” Phil chuckled, “hate to break it to you.”

  


“Crushing my dreams here Phil.”

  


There was a brief silence, all three of them staring up at the fairly ominous black door. Phil glanced over and saw Chris anxiously linking hands with PJ.

  


“So are we just gonna stand here the entire night or are we gonna _Mission Impossible_ this bitch?” Chris piped up, making PJ splutter out a laugh, despite the situation.

  


“First we have to look both ways kiddies,” PJ responded as he just ran across the road, half-dragging Chris with him.

  


“All your primary school teachers would be appalled at your behaviour,” Phil giggled, following them.

  


_It’s too silent,_ he thought, ears buzzing, _it’s far too silent for what’s about to happen._

  


Phil drew in a shaky breath before walking up to the door, avoiding the dying shrubs on either side of the path and knocking on the hardwood.

  


There was the sound of light footsteps coming towards them before the door opened and a woman appeared in front of them.

  


She had light brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail, small wisps escaping and framing her face, tired brown eyes looked up at him as she smoothed her white top over a pair of faded jeans.

  


“Can I help you?” she asked kindly, red lips curling into a polite smile.

  


“Are you Dan’s mum?” Phil practically whispered, not wanting to alert anyone else of his presence, “My name’s Phil.”

  


She blanched and pulled him inside roughly, ushering Chris and PJ in behind him. “I assume you know what’s going on?” she asked rhetorically.

  


Phil nodded anyway.

  


“Janet!” came a roaring voice from down the hall, and they all flinched, “Who was at the door?”

  


“”N-no one dear!” she replied shakily, “Just some salespeople!”

  


There was the creaking of aged springs as he shifted in his chair, but silence soon settled over them.

  


“The door’s locked,” Dan’s mum whispered to them, pulling a key out of her pocket, “I think this is the key, but I’m not sure.”

  


“I you had they key this entire time, why didn’t you let Dan out?” Phil asked dubiously, taking the small piece of metal.

  


“I just got a hold of it a couple of minutes ago,” she informed them, shaking her head, “I was planning to sneak us out… his room is upstairs.”

  


Nodding, Phil jogged towards the stairs, worry twisting in his gut.

  


_Adrian said Dan couldn’t move,_ he reminded himself, _that might mean he’s tied up…_

  


Taking the stairs two at a time, Chris and PJ not far behind him, Phil opened the first door - bathroom, cursing, he moved onto the next one - broom closet.

  


“Phil,” Chris murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder, “he’s gonna be okay, just calm down a bit yeah?”

  


“How can I?” Phil exclaimed, whirling around, “How can I _possibly_ be calm when I have no idea where he is or _how hurt he is.”_

  


Chris opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Phil interrupted him, “I’m sorry for dragging you along in this, and I know I’m acting weird, but I’m just _so scared that he’s already dead.”_

  


A sombre silence fell over the group, punctuated only by Phil’s heavy breathing, tears welling up in his eyes because _he had finally told them what he was really afraid of._

  


“I’m _completely terrified_ we’ll open a door and he’ll just be lying there, stone cold and still as anything and I’ll spend the rest of my life telling myself _if you were just one second earlier-”_

  


“Don’t do this to yourself Phil,” PJ interjected, “we _will_ find him.”

  


Phil gulped and nodded, the better part of his mind asking _but in what state? What state will we find him in?_

  


He met their eyes briefly, a single tear running down his cheek, and he moved onto the next door. It shook slightly as he jiggled the knob, but remained closed.

  


With bated breath, Phil slid the key into the lock and slowly opened the door. Anxiety bubbling in his abdomen and dread creeping down his spine, Phil moved into the room carefully, taking in all the debris and the wreckage.

  


“What the fuck happened here?” Chris whispered, not wanting to disturb the dusty, seemingly immovable silence that surrounded them.

  


Pushing the door even further, the whole post-hurricane state of the room became apparent. Eyes wide, he slowly drank in all the details - Dan’s broken piano, the splintered closet, feathers from pillows scattered around like snow, various books had been torn up and tatters of clothing lay on the floor.

  


“I… I don’t know,” Phil replied softly, carefully making his way into the room. There was an awful feeling of sick apprehension that had settled in his stomach, and an urgency ran through his blood, adjuring him to _find Dan. Just find Dan and everything will be ok._

  


Gaze still sweeping the shattered room, Phil knelt down and picked up a small black book. He opened it and leafed through the pages, a melancholic smile gracing his lips as he read over the small notes Dan had written, spotted with little doodles and squiggles.

  


A hand was placed on his shoulder as he stared down at the black and white pages.

  


Phil brushed away the tears that had begun to fall and stood up, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking around again.

  


A pained groan sounded from behind him, and he turned around, heart beating painfully fast in his chest and a myriad of emotions coursing through him.

  


_“Dan…”_ he breathed out sorrowfully, his gaze softening at the broken form in front of him.

  


———

  


**Dan** didn’t know what was going on.

  


He was unconscious, he knew that much, but Phil’s voice had seemed so… _real_ , unlike the other times he had entered his hazy subconscious delusions - then he had been fuzzy, blurred around the edges and just somehow… _off_.

  


_“Dan?”_ came Phil’s voice again, _“Dan can you hear me?”_

  


As he was roused out of his unconscious state, Dan tried to remember why Phil was _here_ and why his entire body _wouldn’t stop aching._

  


His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was Phil, slack-jawed with relief and tears falling onto Dan’s face.

  


“Ph…il?” he rasped, his throat dry and his voice weak from disuse.

  


Dan’s head was cradled in his lap and for a few moments it was just them, Dan and Phil, enamoured in their own little world.

  


“Oh my god _Dan,”_ Phil sighed breathlessly, cupping his face, “please don’t _ever_ do that to me again.”

  


“I…I’m… sorry,” he croaked out.

  


Phil shifted slightly and Dan winced, the jostling flaring up his injuries.

  


“Oh god I’m sorry are you okay? No, that was stupid, of course you’re not okay, I’m just going to stay completely still ahh,” Phil rambled flusteredly.

  


“Phil, I’m fine,” Dan chuckled softly, “I just… can’t exactly go anywhere.”

  


He felt hands support the back of his head as he was laid down on the floor. “Okay, this is probably gonna hurt,” Phil warned him grimly, “but we’re getting you out of here.”

  


Dan braced himself and Phil gathered him up in his arms. Surprised, he moved to wrap his arms around Phil’s neck but pulled back with a hiss, cradling his right arm.

  


“Shit, what’s up with your arm?” PJ asked, wincing in sympathy.

  


“I think it’s broken…” Dan whimpered, burying his head in Phil’s chest.

  


Phil tightened his grip slightly. “You’re really light… when was the last time you ate something?” he asked anxiously, as if dreading the answer.

  


“A while… I don’t know how long I was in that room but I’m… so… thirsty as well..” he mumbled, eyes beginning to droop, “M’head hurts…”

  


“No, hey! Dan!” Chris exclaimed, “We don’t know if you’re concussed or something so you can’t fall asleep… is that it? Or is it we _want_ him to fall asleep?”

  


“We _really don’t_ want him to fall asleep,” PJ affirmed, holding the door open for them.

  


“I’m gonna go get him something to drink,” Chris announced as he ran down the stairs and out of view.

  


Someone screamed downstairs.

  


Everyone stopped in their tracks and glanced at each other nervously.

  


_That was mum,_ Dan realised, foggy though his thoughts were, _mum was screaming._

  


Panicked, he tried to wiggle out of Phil’s arms but stopped quickly as the jostling was just making everything worse.

  


“Well, it’s no use staying up here,” PJ told them grimly and slowly made his way down the stairs, Phil following close behind.

  


“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” a voice roared, making Dan quiver in fear and snuggle in closer to Phil.

  


Phil looked down worriedly at the trembling boy and shifted his grip. They continued down the stairs warily, keeping a lookout for his father.

  


“Who’re you?” Adrian asked from the bottom of the staircase, “Why have you got Dan?”

  


“Don’t you remember me Adrian?” Phil asked hastily, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves “I’m Phil.”

  


“Oh, so _you’re_ Dan’s Phil!” he exclaimed, pointing at him, “Dad’s really mad at you.”

  


“No… no he’s not Adrian,” Dan told him, his voice a harsh whisper, “he’s mad at me for liking Phil.”

  


“Is that why you’re not gonna have his tattoo any more?”

  


A jolt ran through him as he remembered what was going to happen to him tonight… he looked up at Phil nervously, wondering if he would hate him for what his father was doing to him.

  


Phil looked horrified.

  


“Dad’s making me…. I’m sorry…” he whispered, so softly he didn’t even think Phil could hear him.

  


“Dan, listen to me,” Phil started shakily, “I _am_ going to get you out of this. That name is going nowhere.”

  


Smiling slightly, Dan looked up at Phil. “So…you do love me?” he asked warily, dreading the answer.

  


_Of course he doesn’t,_ the voices pushed.

  


A stunned silence fell over the group and Phil fell slack-jawed at the question.

  


_“Oh what has he been doing to you?”_ he whispered brokenly, kissing Dan on the forehead, _“Of course_ I love you. I always will.”

  


Adrian stared at the pair dubiously. 

  


There was another scream. “I’M SORRY,” his mum wailed, “no one was at the door!”

  


“You filthy BITCH,” was the thunderous reply, “lie to me ONE MORE TIME and I will _kill_ you!”

  


Whack. _Scream_.

  


_“They’re with Dan!”_ she relented, and Dan was struck with an image of that… _monster,_ fist raised above his mother, who cowered in fear, porcelain hands raised up to her face, weeping diamond tears at the discoloured bruises that splattered her form like paint.

  


Closing his eyes at the repulsive image, Dan shivered and curled in on himself.

  


Heavy footsteps, undoubtedly belonging to his father, trudged down the hall and came steadily closer to them.

  


Beads of sweat ran down Dan’s face and his breathing grew laboured. He knew what would happen to Phil if his dad saw them, and so did PJ by the wary glance he shot their way.

  


He tried to move his left arm but winced in pain just by letting go of it. Everything in him was urging Dan to _do something. Protect Phil,_ but he couldn’t.

  


Dan couldn’t do _fucking anything_ and just the thought of that poor excuse for a man hurting Phil made him sick to his stomach.

  


———

  


**Phil** was scared.

  


His breath came in short, laboured bursts, his arms were trembling from holding Dan, his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and it seemed like he was frozen.

  


Oh yes, Phil was scared - _terrified_ even - but more than anything, he was _angry_.

  


He was _furious_.

  


The fact that he had to _actually hold Dan in his arms_ because he couldn’t walk, that _every movement_ made him hiss and every haphazard smile he threw Phil held _so much pain_ he wanted to cry.

  


_How could anyone do this to Dan?_

  


The ever-present tears in his eyes still threatened to fall and it was _killing him i_ nside every time Dan snuggled into his chest.

  


The hefty footsteps drew closer and neither Phil nor PJ had moved a muscle. Adrian, on the other hand, and immediately ran up the stairs and hid behind PJ’s legs as soon as he heard his father yelling.

  


“Mummy always tells me to hide,” he whispered, and Phil’s heart lurched.

****  


**“Who the fuck are you?”**

  


Startled, he looked to the bottom of the stairs and, sure enough, a heavyweight man was glaring straight back at him.

  


Phil gulped on a brave face. “My name is Philip Michael Lester, I suppose you might’ve heard of me?” he retorted, sounding much braver than he felt.

  


PJ whirled around to glare at him, as if saying _what the fuck are you doing??_

  


The man went stock-still for a moment then, his red face contorted into a picture of fury as the words Phil uttered registered in his mind. Hands clenching into fists, he slowly ascended the staircase.

  


One.

  


Step.

  


At.

  


A.

  


Time.

  


Terror ran through Phil like an electric shock. Before he didn’t have a chance too, he turned around and placed Dan on the ground, propping him up against the wall.

  


“No… Phil,” Dan protested weakly, grasping at his shirt with one hand.

  


“It’sgonna be okay, Dan,” Phil promised him shakily, “everything’s going to be okay.”

  


“Everything’s going to be **_okay_ , is it?”** Dan’s father asked mockingly, grasping the front of PJ’s shirt and throwing him down the stairs behind them. Adrian was left out in the open, out of places to hide.

  


His father barely spared him a glance before roughly shoving him aside, sending him tumbling down the hard wooden steps as well, making a horrible _thunk_ with every step.

  


Phil flinched as watched them fall, sighing in relief when PJ stuck his hand up in an _I’m ok_ sign, before pulling Adrian into a comforting embrace and lying back down, urging the small child to stop crying. Fear was eating at him from the inside but he was determined to not let it show on his face.

  


Judging from the horrifically gleeful expression painted on the face of the man on front of him, Phil guessed he failed.

  


“So **you’re** the little fag who’s name isn’t gonna be on my boy’s arm for much longer,” he growled.

  


“D-don’t be so sure,” Phil countered, “and you _do_ realise that I’ll still love Dan, and he’ll still love me, even if that happens.

  


“Then explain _this,”_ he thundered furiously, tugging down the neckline of his grubby blue shirt to expose a scar, like he had been burnt, in the shape of a name - _Janet Maria Ferrer._

  


“What?” Phil asked breathlessly, not believing his eyes.

  


“The name is gone,” he continued, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips at Phil’s slack-jawed expression, “and we don’t love each other any more.”

  


Phil shook his head desperately. “No,” he murmured, “no, _you forced that on yourself!_ You _made_ her not love you anymore by _abusing_ her!”

  


Suddenly, Phil was knocked on his side, a harsh stinging in his cheek. Dan let out a cry as his body crashed onto the stairs.

****  


**“I was teaching her a lesson!”** he bellowed, **“She needed to know her place.”**

  


Phil remained silent, holding his cheek with one hand and pushing himself up with the other.

  


“And Dan?” he asked after a while, frightened anger seeping into his voice, “You beat up, you screamed at, you _abused_ the most _amazing person in the world, who did nothing to deserve it!”_

  


**Whack.**

  


Phil found himself on the floor again, the edges of the stairs digging into him.

  


“My son is no _fag_ , and I’m taking him to one of those clinics to prove it.”

  


“You can’t do that!” Phil bursted, despite knowing what would happen to him if he continued to argue, “You can’t just _remove someone’s tattoo!”_

  


“Oh I think I can you fucker,” the furious man spat, raising his hand once again, “but hey, if I can just kill you now then he won’t have any reason to resist!”

  


Phil felt all the blood leave his face. “That-that won’t change a _thing”_ he stammered out cluelessly, the false bravado melting away to sombre defiance, “I’ll still love Dan and Dan will still love me.”

  


He looked over Dan, who had tears running down his face and was closing his eyes tightly, but he was nodding desperately.

  


“Then I’ll just have to **beat it out of him,”** Dan’s father scowled, following Phil’s line of sight and advancing on Dan.

  


“No, no hey!” Phil exclaimed, trying - and failing - to draw his attention.

  


So he did the only thing he could think of.

  


Phil clenched his fist, and punched the hulking man right in the mouth.

  


He whirled around, furious.

  


_Well, that did the job,_ Phil thought to himself, fear coursing though his veins and making his entire body buzz, _what now?_

  


One meaty hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place while the other came up to club him in the stomach. Pain blossomed in his abdomen and he squirmed in the man’s grip, desperately trying to get away from him.

  


Agonising pain erupted in his stomach and he doubled over, tears pricking at his eyes

  


The hand on his shoulder forced him upright, backing him up against the banister. Thick hands closed around Phil’s throat, cutting off his air and making him grasp desperately at the crushing grip.

  


“Ph… il!” Dan rasped out, struggling to stand up.

  


The sound of rushed footsteps came closer towards them, and there was a shattering sound.

  


The grip on Phil’s neck went lax and he shoved the hands away from him, coughing and gasping as he fell onto all fours.

  


“Who shoved a stick up _his_ ass?” Chris remarked somewhat shakily, holding the remains of a smashed vase in his hands.

  


Phil looked up in awe, rubbing his neck. “Thanks,” he whispered gratefully, accepting Chris’ hand and standing up.

  


PJ was giving Dan a glass of water, which he gulped down eagerly, left arm still limp at his side.

  


Phil crouched down next to him and pulled him into an embrace, burying his face in the smaller boy’s shoulder.

  


Dan’s hand shakily griped the front of his shirt, crying into Phil’s chest.

  


“Is it over?” he asked in a small voice, the raspy quality still there, but it sounded more solid now.

  


“It’s over,” Phil whispered.

  


Dan moved closer to him, craving the warmth after what seemed like forever.

  


Phil pulled away and cupped Dan’s face, assessing the damage. Dan glanced down at Phil’s lips before wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

  


Phil gently rested his hands on Dan’s hips and smiled against his lips, euphoria surging up inside his chest and relief emitting from him in waves because _it was finally over._

  


_It was all over._

  


A groan fell from the man next to them and they pulled apart quickly, everyone stiffening in anticipation.

  


Dan’s father slid down a couple of steps, but remained unconscious.

  


A collective sigh of relief came off the group, and Phil carefully pressed his lips to Dan’s.

  


“As much as I love seeing you two make out,” PJ drawled sarcastically, “what are we going to do about _that?”_

  


“I could hit him with the rest of this,” Chris proposed, holding up the shards of green china.

  


PJ shook his head, frowning and opening his palms softly, exposing the shallow cuts Chris had gained from smashing the vase over the fucker’s head.

  


Taking the jagged porcelain from his boyfriend’s hands and placing it on the ground, PJ inspected the harm done while Chris winced and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt.

  


“I’m fine Peej,” he insisted, “it’s nothing.”

  


PJ rolled his eyes and kissed the back of his palm, but didn’t say anything more about it.

  


Adrian hesitantly drew away from PJ and shuffled over to Dan. “You ‘k?” he asked tentatively, scuffing his shoe on the carpet.

  


Dan smiled sadly. “I will be,” he replied, looking up at Phil.

  


Smiling a tired smile, Phil gestured for Dan to shuffle over so he could lift him up. Dan obliged, wincing as Phil’s arms snaked around his torso and his legs and the ground fell away.

  


_It was all over._

  


Carefully making his way down the stairs, Phil thought about what would happen next. Looking down at Dan - who was still cradling his arm gingerly, then at Chris - who wouldn’t touch anything with his hands and PJ - who was limping, he made a decision that really should have been obvious from the very beginning.

  


“Well, first thing’s first, we all need to get our sorry asses to a hospital,” he commented offhandedly, smiling slightly as Dan nodded and rested his head against Phil’s chest.

  


“Dan,” he roused quietly, jostling him slightly, “I’m really sorry but you can’t fall asleep yet Bear.”

  


“Soon?” Dan asked sleepily.

  


“Soon,” he affirmed, tightening his grip on the fragile boy that he cared too much about to let him break.

  


As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Adrian whizzed past them and into the hallway.

  


“Mum!” he exclaimed, running towards her slumped form, “Mum are you okay?”

  


“Adrian?” she whispered, cupping his face and brushing away auburn locks, “Adrian are you okay? Oh god what about Dan? Phil?”

  


“We’re fine,” PJ interjected, linking arms with Chris, “Well… we will be.”

  


She rushed up to Dan worriedly, hands hovering over his crumpled body like she didn’t want to touch him, lest he shatter. “Oh Dan, my poor, poor boy,” she whispered sorrowfully, tears pooling in her eyes.

  


Wiping her eyes haphazardly, she took a moment to compose herself before turning and walking towards a small table pressed against the wall. Fingers shaking, she fumbled around in a bowl before pulling out a ring of keys.

  


“I’m getting the lot of you to the hospital,” she told them in a no-nonsense tone, gesturing for the group to follow her as she opened the door and went outside.

  


Phil followed suit, breathing in deeply as the cool night air rushed past him. He winced at the feeling of his sore stomach stretching, but continued walking.

  


“Hey look Dan,” he murmured, making sure he was still awake, “Stars.”

  


“That one says you’re a nerd,” Dan mumbled, gesturing vaguely up at the sky.

  


Phil giggled. “Wow, that one really hit home Dan,” he chuckled.

  


“Good,” Dan muttered, a mock-satisfied smile across his lips.

  


Dan’s mum opened the door and Phil carefully placed Dan inside, before clambering in next to him.

  


“Thanks Ms. Howell,” Phil threw over his shoulder as he got himself situated.

  


“Oh for goodness sakes Phil, I’m pretty sure we’re past the _Ms_. now aren’t we?” Ms. Howell chided playfully, “Call me Janet.”

  


Phil smiled. “Alright… Janet,” he tested, nodding as he shut the car door.

  


The car ride was silent.

  


Adrian sat in Chris’ lap next to Phil and Dan was leaning heavily on his shoulder, mumbling incoherently about how mean he was for not allowing him to sleep.

  


“I know Bear,” he whispered, breaking the soundless, pensive atmosphere that had fallen over the group, “You can go to sleep soon.”

  


“I love you,” Dan murmured, “Did you know that?”

  


Phil chuckled and kissed him on the cheek, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Dan’s mother stiffened at the exchange.

  


“I did, and I love you too,” he replied softly, reaching an arm around Dan’s shoulders and bringing him in close, trying to ignore the aching of his ribs and the stinging of his cheek and just enjoy having the reassurance of the smaller boy’s presence after what was undoubtedly far too long without it.

  


“You two are sickening,” PJ drawled from the passenger seat, “I’m in pain already, I don’t want to have to endure vomiting as well thank you very much.”

  


Phil chuckled and fell silent, marvelling at all of them, how they had all just come out of that alive - how, he had no idea, but he didn’t think there would be another time where he felt quite so grateful to have Dan in his arms than he did now.

  


Resting his head on top of Dan’s, Phil stared out at the pink and orange hues decorating the clouds along the skyline.

  


_We made it,_ he thought to himself, _everything’s going to be alright._

  


_———_

  


**Dan** felt weird.

  


Everything around him was white and the scratchy fabric surrounding his body had an uncomfortable plasticky texture. That was all he could figure out through his squinting eyelids as the world seemed _too fucking bright_ to even exist.

  


His mind seemed to be in a state of _blarghhllllerghtfiphfffsnope_ and his head kept lolling back so he resorted to flopping back on the soft thing resignedly, a tired numbness buzzing underneath his skin.

  


“Just go back to sleep Daniel,” an unfamiliar, fuzzy voice told him softly, “That’s it… just fall right back to sleep.”

  


Dan felt his eyelids getting heavier… the fuzzy static in his mind fading…

  


-

  


Someone was holding his hand.

  


That was the first thought he registered, eyes rolling around experimentally under his closed lids.

  


A comforting warmth was emitting from his hand and whatever he was wearing felt _entirely too uncomfortable._

  


Brow furrowing, he cracked open his eyes, hissing slightly as a bright light burned into his corneas.

  


Once he had adjusted, Dan pushed his hand underneath him and pushed himself upright, his lower back colliding with the bars on the bed awkwardly.

  


Something shifted to the right of him, the black mop of hair a stark contrast against the white bedsheets.

  


_What happened…_ he wondered, blinking around at his environment owlishly.

  


It all hit him like a freight train, careening off the tracks and straight into his bruised and broken form.

  


_His father, raising a fist above his head, bellowing about how Dan would never_ **_could never_ ** _be loved by anyone._

  


_His left arm held between two massive hands and snapped like a toothpick._

  


_That wretched man, foot poised to strike Dan’s already sobbing form on the ground, thundering about how_ **_disgusting_ ** _he was, how much of a_ **_disgrace_ ** _he was, just by existing._

  


Dan was shaking, his eyes wide and staring into nothingness. His breath came in short gasps and it felt like there wasn’t nearly enough air in the room.

  


_You said it was all over Phil,_ he whimpered, _you said everything would be okay…_

  


_“You think what Phil tells you is_ ** _real?”_ ** his father roared, _“You think, what, that you love each other? It’s all a lie Daniel - everything about you is a lie, and I’m going to have to be the one that fixes you!”_

  


“Hey,” a warm voice cut through the angry memories, “Dan, come on.”

  


Trembling, Dan refocused on the white wall in front of him.

  


Something squeezed his hand, and Dan slowly shifted his gaze to the right.

  


_Phil._

  


His face broke out into a small smile.

  


“Hi,” Dan whispered, his voice cracking slightly from disuse.

  


“Hi,” Phil replied, chapped lips returning his smile.

  


A second later, he found himself swathed in a gentle embrace. Dan slowly raised his arms to wrap around Phil’s middle and rested his head on his shoulder.

  


They stayed like that for a few moments, each taking in the feeling of being in the other’s arms, the sensation of the world slowing down, the familiar fuzzy, affectionate yearning deep-rooted within their chests that twanged at their heartstrings.

  


_Yep,_ Dan sighed contently, _a calmness washing over him, I could get used to this._

  


“So… what happened?” he asked as they pulled away.

  


Phil sighed and leant back in his chair, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You’ve been asleep for the past two days-”

  


“Two days?!” Dan exclaimed, cutting him off, “Why couldn’t I pull an Uma Thurman and already know that? It feels like two seconds.”

  


Chuckling slightly, Phil took his hand again. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because you weren’t in a coma,” he suggested, playing along.

  


Dan shrugged and motioned for him to continue.

  


“Everyone else is fine, if a little shaken up. Chris’ hands are completely bandaged up and he’s basically incapacitated, which is pretty funny,” Phil explained, “They gave me some salve for my stomach and patched up your mum… the doctors thought it would be good for Adrian to see a child psychiatrist, to she’s got the number for that to…”

  


“What about that?” Dan asked, pointing at the large cast that encased his right calf.

  


“Hairline fracture,” Phil informed him, grimacing slightly, “You’re pretty hyped up on morphine y’know. Have been for the past while - you’ve said some pretty funny stuff.”

  


Dan groaned and flopped his head back onto the pillow. “Please don’t tell me you recorded it,” he lamented, already knowing the answer.

  


Phil held up his phone triumphantly.

  


“I hate you.”

  


“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” Phil sung.

  


Dan had seen the videos of people talking while drugged up to their teeth on morphine. It didn’t fair well for his dignity. 

  


“Anyway,” his boyfriend continued, “you’re getting released soon, after they check to see if you’re still concussed or if you can actually do anything without feeling pain.

  


“Phil,” Dan started, “how the fuck am I supposed to get anywhere with a cast on _this_ arm and a cast on _that_ leg!”

  


“That’s the best part,” Phil smirked, “I basically get to push you around in a wheelchair while you have absolutely no say in where we go - I can finally show you that shop that you wouldn’t go anywhere near.”

  


“The one with the abundance of pastel colours and flowers?” Dan gulped, “But Phil it’ll crash with my aesthetic!”

  


“Too bad it’s cute.”

  


“I hate you,” Dan sulked.

  


“Nah you love me,” Phil goaded.

  


Rolling his eyes, he pushed Phil’s shoulder playfully. “That’s beside the point!” he exclaimed, “I’m not going into that shop! Don’t you have lectures and stuff anyway?”

  


“I explained the situation to my teachers and they all said it was cool - I’m getting a few catch up lessons from the people in my class anyway,” he explained cooly.

  


Dan stared up at the ceiling, smiling softly and just enjoying the fact that he was _alive_ and _it was over._

  


After sixteen long years, it was over.

  


They talked for a little longer, just small things like _the serving lady in the cafe downstairs is really weird_ and _I would have gotten you a muffin, but you were unconscious so…_

  


A lady in a white coat stepped into the room, smiling tersely at the pair before taking a pen out of her pocket and poising it above the clipboard she had in her hand. “And how are we feeling today Daniel?” she asked kindly, “Any aches? Feeling like you want to throw up? Nervous breakdowns?”

  


Dan shook his head.

  


“Don’t lie to me now,” she solded playfully, “I’m a doctor, I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

  


“Well, just after I… woke up, I kinda felt like I was still there? Like in the house? With… with him,” he told her, eyes downcast.

  


She nodded and jotted something down. “That’s perfectly normal,” she informed, “if you’d like we could bring up a wheelchair for you?”

  


Dan nodded, not meeting Phil’s gaze.

  


She threw a quick grin at them both before exiting the room.

  


“Is that what that was?” Phil asked softly, squeezing Dan’s hand gently.

  


Exhaling deeply, Dan shuffled over and gestured for him to come onto the bed. “Yeah,” he whispered, snuggling into him.

  


Phil wrapped his arms protectively around the smaller boy. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into his hair.

  


Dan shrugged. “S’ok,” he replied.

  


Moments later, the door opened again and the same doctor appeared, pushing a wheelchair before stopping abruptly when she saw the two of them.

  


“I’m sorry,” she apologised meekly, “am I interrupting?”

  


“No, you’re fine,” Phil told her, “Thanks for the wheelchair.”

  


She nodded and left the room.

  


“Come on,” he smiled, getting off the bed and pulling the wheelchair towards them, “let’s get you in this thing.”

  


Dan stared at the chair hatefully before raising his arms up so Phil could lift him up. “I pull all the heavy weight over here,” he drawled sarcastically as Dan got situated.

  


“Mush,” he commanded, pointing forwards dramatically.

  


“You dork,” Phil chuckled as he gripped the handles and pushed him out the door, “where do you want to go?”

  


“Where is everyone else?”

  


“Probably in the food court,” he shrugged, “I swear your mum’s drunk half her weight in caffeine by now.”

  


Guilt settled in Dan’s stomach uncomfortably as they continued towards the elevator.

  


“Hey Dan,” Phil smirked when they reached the end of the hallway, “wanna take the stairs?”

  


“What floor are we on?” he asked.

  


“Fifth.”

  


“I’m alright, thanks for the offer though,” Dan replied sarcastically as they entered the small silver box.

  


“Shame, you’re missing out,” Phil sighed, “it’s great fun going down ten flights of stairs on a wheelchair.”

  


“I’m sure,” Dan giggled, rolling his eyes at Phil’s antics.

  


The elevator _dinged_ open and they walked out, Phil muttering about _where was the cafe again?_

  


“Dan!” his mother exclaimed when she saw them, “Oh my poor boy…”

  


“Mum, I’m fine, just a bit bruised,” he told her, smiling as she drew him into a careful embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

  


“We told the hospital people what happened,” Chris chimed in, “and they called the police on his ass.”

  


Dan felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “He’s gone to prison?” he asked softly.

  


Chris shrugged and sipped his coffee. “No idea,” he told them simply, “but the police know what happened and we all got the bumps to prove it so hey.”

  


Nodding carefully, Dan gripped his warm coffee that Phil had bought him.

  


“How are you feeling man?” PJ asked concernedly.

  


“Too hyped up on drugs to feel anything honestly,” he replied, leaning his head back in the chair.

  


“Drugs?” repeated his mum nervously.

  


“Jees mum _morphine.”_

  


“Oh. Right.”

  


“Hey Dan guess what?” Adrian piped up.

  


“What?” Dan replied playfully.

  


“We’re moving to Manchester!” he giggled, throwing his hands up in the air.

  


Dan stared at him, slack-jawed with disbelief. “We’re… we’re _moving?”_ he asked his mother disbelievingly.

  


She nodded. “It’s probably best for us to get out of Wokingham,” she told him, “new house, new schools, new place… it’s a fresh start.”

  


He remained silent, staring around at the occupants of the table, who already knew her decision.

  


“That’s… okay, right?” she asked nervously.

  


Dan’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh it is so much more than okay,” he agreed, gazing happily at Phil.

  


“We can never seem to get rid of you Howell,” Chris smirked into his coffee.

  


“Woe is you. You’re stuck with me now,” he replied.

  


“I’m sure we’ll find a way to manage,” Phil chuckled, taking Dan’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

  


Dan blushed slightly and took a sip of his too-sweet coffee.

  


_Yep, I could definitely get used to this._

  


_———_

  


_———_

  


**Daniel James Howell** was happy.

  


Today was his seventeenth birthday, and so far he had been bombarded with well-wishes and small things like chocolate from various people at school.

  


“So what are you going to do for your birthday?” Zoe asked as the bell rang for lunch.

  


“Phil’s picking me up, but he said it’s gonna be a surprise,” Dan explained, a giddy smile painted across his lips.

  


“That’s adorable,” she cooed, “no sleeves today?”

  


Dan smiled proudly as he stared down at the _short-sleeved_ school shirt he was wearing, complete with black skinny jeans and white Doc Martens- which Dan _had_ got detention for admittedly.

  


It had been a while until he had found the courage to take off his jumper at school, and he constantly felt like he needed to cover his wrists, but when he did finally uncross his arms, barely anyone had mentioned it. Zoe had kissed him on the cheek and told him she was proud and Felix hugged him, but that was it. He still wore a jumper most days, enjoying the familiar comfort it gave him.

  


“It was hard to stay true to my aesthetic,” he chuckled as they found a free table, “Summer y’know?”

  


“I feel you, I had just bought this really cute jacket the other day and everything,” she lamented.

  


“Why’d you get a jumper in the _middle of Summer?”_ he laughed.

  


Zoe shrugged.

  


A couple of months after Dan had gotten out of the hospital, he, Phil, Chris, PJ, his mum and Adrian all attended his father’s trial. One pretty kick-ass lawyer and a guilty sentence later and that horrible man was behind bars for practically the rest of his life.

  


“Hey guys,” Louise greeted as she sat down, “Sir kept me in late because I didn’t finish the homework.”

  


“And what, pray tell, were you doing instead of the homework last night Louise?” Dan asked her innocently, knowing full well that she probably whiled away the hours talking to Mark.

  


“Shut it Howell.”

  


They laughed and chatted aimlessly for the next couple of minutes, complaining about how _this_ teacher never taught anything, or _that_ one has an attitude to rival Dan’s, or _that guy seriously needs to get rid of the frosted tips - it’s not the fucking nineties._

  


“Where’s Felix and Marzia? I know they had maths on the other side of the school but they should be here by now,” Zoe asked.

  


Dan and Louise shared a look. “Where do you _think_ Felix and Marzia are Zoe?” Dan deadpanned.

  


“Oh.”

  


Louise giggled into her pasta. “Is this the day we finally get to meet the elusive Phil?” she questioned Dan, leaning in conspiratorially and raising an eyebrow.

  


“Yeah, we’ve known you for like, a year - how come you never talk about him?” Zoe asked.

  


Dan shrugged. “I can’t imagine we’d be very interesting I mean… all we do is play video games and watch _Buffy.”_

  


“That’s it?”

  


“Well, no…” Dan trailed off.

  


“Come on! Does he have any cute habits? What does he do that bugs you? What’s the most romantic thing he’s done for you?” Zoe goaded, abandoning her sandwich.

  


“I don’t get why this is so interesting to you!” Dan exclaimed, a blush dusting his cheeks.

  


“You’re blushing, so there _must_ be something interesting,” Zoe insisted.

  


“Give us a break, all we’ve heard is that he’s got black hair and he’s taller than you,” Louise added.

  


“Well… he does this thing where he pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth whenever he laughs and it’s adorable,” Dan started, eyes downcast shyly, “but something he does that annoys me is that he _eats my cereal_ then pretends he didn’t, or he’ll leave _literally every single cupboard door open.”_

  


“What are we talking about?” Felix chimed in as he and Marzia sat down.

  


“Phil,” was the simultaneous reply.

  


“Well that’s new,” Marzia drawled playfully.

  


Dan blushed and buried his head in his hands. _“This_ is why I don’t like talking about him,” me mumbled, “I get like this.”

  


“Awwe, that’s adorable,” Zoe giggled.

  


“Anyway yeah, he leaves the cupboard doors open and eats all my cereal,” he summed up, poking at the leftover curry from last night, “neither of us can be bothered to make lunch most of the time, so we usually just make enough dinner to have leftovers.”

  


“Whoa whoa whoa, do you two _live together?”_ Louise asked incredulously.

  


Dan nodded like it was obvious. “Most of the time anyway, I mean I’m pretty sure most of my stuff is at his place and he’s in his last year of university so he has his own place now,” he told them.

  


Zoe and Louise shared a look before bursting into giggles.

  


Rolling his eyes, Dan just ignored them and started eating, not even bothering to ask what that was all about.

  


“So what do you all have next?” Marzia asked after a considerable silence.

  


“I’ve got music,” Dan answered, “and the two people who won’t stop laughing over there have history.”

  


“I’m pretty sure I have graphics,” Felix told her, not quite sure of his own schedule.

  


“You better make sure pretty quick,” Louise told him.

  


Music went by pretty quickly - it always does for him - but this time the period was punctuated with quick glances at the clock and impatient tapping, for which he received agitated glares from the people surrounding him.

  


There was the bell.

  


Dan, having packed up about half an hour prior to this event, bolted out of his chair and down the hallway, throwing a “thanks Sir!” over his shoulder as he went.

  


He ran out to the entrance, smiling giddily at the thought of whatever Phil had planned for them.

  


“Hey,” Felix greeted as he drew closer.

  


“How’d you get here so quickly?” Dan puffed, resting his hands on his knees.

  


He shrugged. “I didn’t have graphics,” he told him, “free period.”

  


“Lucky,” Dan whined.

  


“Marzia had to go to art class, but she said to tell you happy birthday again.”

  


Smiling at him in thanks, he turned to stare at the entrance, awaiting his boyfriend.

  


“Dan!” someone yelled from behind him.

  


Whirling around, he found Zoe running towards them. “There’s someone round the other side of the school looking for you!” she gasped, her breathing laboured.

  


Dan rolled his eyes. _Of course_ Phil wouldn’t come in through the main entrance, no that was too difficult.

  


They jogged through the school, Zoe complaining about how she had to run _all the way over to them_ and _now she had to run all the way back._

  


“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he heard Phil exclaim as soon as they emerged through the other side.

  


“I saw you literally six hours ago you spoon,” Dan replied, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek, “and if you wanted to see me sooner you should have gone to the _main gate_ like I told you.”

  


Phil glanced behind him in confusion. “I thought this was the main gate?” he asked.

  


Dan chuckled and placed his forehead on Phil’s shoulder in exasperation. “This is the _rear gate_ Phil,” he sighed.

  


“Ahem.”

  


“Oh yea, you haven’t met my friends yet,” he remarked, pulling away and tugging Phil over to the people gathered behind them.

  


“Phil, this is Zoe, Louise and Felix.”

  


Smiling, Phil waved at them.

  


“We’ve heard literally nothing about you,” Louise told him, glaring at Dan, “but apparently that’s because Dan blushes his head off whenever you come up.”

  


“Awwe,” Phil cooed, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy from behind.

  


“I hate you Louise,” Dan deadpanned.

  


She just shrugged.

  


Phil checked the time on his phone. “We gotta go,” he whispered.

  


“It would help if I knew where we’re going,” Dan replied.

  


Phil just smiled and waved goodbye to Dan’s friends as he squeezed their joined hands and ran out of the school.

  


“I swear to god Phil I’m gonna cough up my lungs if you make me run anymore,” he laughed, “I mean, the school, the street, what’s next - a marathon?”

  


“Ah, you caught me,” Phil grinned, “I was training you up.”

  


Dan nudged him playfully as they laughed, chasing each other down the pavement like a half-hearted game of tips.

  


“Stop,” Phil told him after a while, gesturing to the park beside them, “in there.”

  


“Oh yeah, we were actually going somewhere weren’t we?” Dan replied, blinking owlishly at the grass.

  


“No, I was just going to make you roam the streets for hours on your birthday,” he drawled sarcastically.

  


They made their way down to the picnic tables and there, sitting on the edge of one, was an untouched basket.

  


“Yay, Chris actually remembered.”

  


“We’re having a picnic?” Dan asked curiously, “That’s something new.”

  


Phil smiled at him as he grabbed the wicker basket off the table. “Well you’ve never had one before, and picnics are a necessary requirement in life,” he announced, pulling Dan away from the tables and sitting down.

  


Dan followed suit.

  


“So… what do we do now?” he asked dubiously.

  


Phil reached over and pulled a blanket from the basket, handing an edge to Dan and setting it down on the dewy grass. They unpacked the food - which Dan wasn’t surprised to find included two cupcakes - and laid it out on the mat.

  


“There,” Phil smiled, patting the spot next to him, “perfect picnic.”

  


Giggling, Dan sidled up next to his boyfriend as he rambled on about the table manners of having a picnic, which were basically just silly things about eating the salad before the sandwiches or singing _Happy Birthday_ at the top of his lungs - something that Dan _really_ didn’t want him to do.

  


As the food slowly disappeared and so did the daylight, Phil opened a box of candles and stuck one in Dan’s cupcake.

  


“I would have put seventeen,” he informed helpfully, “but then I think you’d be eating more wax than cake.”

  


Dan stared, mesmerised by the flickering light. “Yeah, I guess so,” he whispered thickly, remembering the very different situation he was in this time last year.

  


Phil smiled sympathetically and rubbed his arm soothingly as the smaller boy blew out the single candle, looking at the curling smoke with glazed eyes.

  


“Hey,” Phil roused, “Dan, you okay?”

  


Dan nodded. 

  


“I just-” he started, his throat choking up, “I… you…”

  


“I know,” Phil murmured, pulling him into an embrace.

  


Dan wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and smiled shakily. “I love you,” he giggled, staring straight into Phil’s eyes.

  


“Promise?” he asked cheekily.

  


Giggling, Dan pecked him on the cheek. “Promise,” he replied surely.

  


By the time they had finished all the food and packed away the plates, night had fallen. Phil stretched out on the soft blanket and held out his arms, motioning for Dan to join him.

  


Curling up next to him, the smaller boy laid his head on Phil’s chest, enjoying the calm feeling isolated tranquility as they stared up at the stars.

  


“Hey Phil,” Dan started softly, “see that star?”

  


“If you say the star says I’m a nerd I will personally throw you off this blanket.”

  


“… Nah, _I_ think you’re a nerd, the star says your pretty cool though,” he giggled.

  


“Well the star has good taste,” Phil replied.

  


Dan smiled softly and snuggled closer to him, eyelids drooping slightly. The bubbling feeling in his chest had subsided into a fuzzy warmth, making Dan’s heart flutter as Phil wrapped his arms around his form.

  


A year.

  


A whole year had gone past. Between the nightmares, the nervous first day of school, countless nights at Phil’s place and sleepy mornings spent cuddled up in bed, it felt like much more than that.

  


His life had changed so much. From the beat-up, bullied, scared state he was in, to now… Dan could barely believe his eyes.

  


He had _friends_ in school, actual friends that invited him to hang out with them, not just vaguely knew who he was.

  


Chris and PJ had both become his best friends - Chris liked to call them _the fantastic foursome_ \- and they had spent many weekends trying to _not_ destroy their friendship while playing Monopoly, or trying to beat Dan at Mario Kart, or just laughing until their sides hurt because _what the actual fuck did you just say PJ?_

  


And then there was Phil.

  


Dan couldn’t even _begin_ to explain what he felt towards Phil.

  


_Love_ was too short - it was a simple, one-syllable word that people associated with cartoon hearts and the colour pink. It encapsulated everything you felt towards someone and allowed you to tell them in a short sentence. _I love you._

  


_Adoration_ wasn’t right, because the wide-eyed, jaw-dropped feeling wasn’t there all the time - sometimes it was just hazy kisses and fits of laughter at two am and they were keeping each other up.

  


_Affection_ seemed too plain. Affection meant your family, or the first-date kind of nervousness, the blushing when they held your hand for the first time and the shy smiles that passed between.

  


_Endearment_ sounded like it belonged to an age-old photograph, lovingly pasted between the pages of a scrapbook, it was like postal stamps to a friend far away, or the silly smile that crossed someone’s face as their sibling fell down.

  


To Dan, all these words couldn’t explain how Phil made him feel so _alive_ just by being there, how there was a physical pain in his chest when all he wanted to do was be with him, or how he felt most at home in  ~~ their  ~~ Phil’s bed at ten am, waking up to him smiling goofily and asking what he would like for breakfast.

  


In short - Dan loved Phil, and that’s all there was to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy congrats if you made it all the way to the end!
> 
> Please please tell me what you thought because this whole thing took like five months and we’re so incredibly proud of it and we hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it! ^__^
> 
> Side notes - did you pick up on all the closet jokes I was making? And the song when Dan’s packing for Manchester is Lovely by 21 Pilots.
> 
> As Always, 
> 
> Thornsword.


End file.
